Linda Brooks


Blood - Poem by Linda Brooks

What is blood?
It's the thing you write with,
the stuff we spill not caring whose it is,
only that we need our fill of it like a tick needs it to live.

We take it regardless if it is innocent or evil,
it flows through our veins;
pulsing and quicking,
with each beat of our so called heart

Some still drink
but I've had my fill of it.


Comments about Blood by Linda Brooks

  • (10/30/2008 8:23:00 AM)


    You successfully bring out the disgust I also feel about all the blood spilt by humans. (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
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  • Sarwar Chowdhury (9/18/2008 8:52:00 AM)


    well composed................10 (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, June 11, 2008



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