Oil and Blood
A creative mix of oil and blood,
for it only matters whats under the hood.
And the smell of gas,
and the smell is good.
Eight pistons tunring,
the rich fuel burning.
The need to race,
the urge thats churning.
The stretch of open road,
to only go fast, I make an ode.
The acceleration that stops,
the blood that once flowed.
Driving is not a sin,
it just shows where I've been.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
