"My Block" Power writing poem

 This poem was written during a eight minute power writing exercise during my Media Storm class, it was later revised and edited into one of my favorite pieces of my own poetry.



My block is seventeen years of memories combined into two forty six story buildings

that once stood tallest in the area, when I stood only four feet above the same ground its roots 

are so heavily planted.  

My block is the playground where monkey bars challenged me time and time again to get up.

My block is a hello and how are you to faces I've known for so long.

My block is the lights of times square that never go to sleep

to the words "spare some change"  spoken by usual homeless people who whisper god bless even 

when you have nothing to spare.

My block is my best friend who lives six stories above my grey painted walls and pink blanket 

covers.

My block is the bench where I first felt someones lips on mine, other then the friendly kisses of 

my parents.

It is a Covenant house three steps away and a five star hotel just past that.

My block is a clash of culture, a clash of colors.

from every part of the world.

My block never forgets the past but yearns to experience the future.

It has felt the change of gentrification and has come to accepted its forty six floors,

now hiding beneath glass buildings which tower over its brown bricks.

Bricks which hold more wisdom and experience then the glass buildings next to it, which reflect 

the world around it rather then soak it in.

My block is the church where I stat listening to the tales of time that always seemed to fascinate 
me.

 It is the bench where I sat with my first love countless nights talking till the sun came back up.

My block is the Halloween haunted houses and trick or treats that brought back a garbage bag 

of candy home to mama witch.

It is the Christmas trees in the lobby that stood far above me, sparkling with red and green lights.

My block is the yearly food fair, starting on my corner and stretching its cultural sounds and 

sweet lemonade twenty more gum stained streets away.

Where sausage and pepper on a roll was once six bucks now fills your taste buds for a full ten bucks... no soda included.

My block was where I stood that day I first held a foreign green plant up to my lips and breathed 

that grey smoke deep in my lungs.
  
My block has seen me for who I am

and who I have pretended to be.

It has held me on my two feet and knocked me down.

My block is a friendship between tall brown brick, gum stained pavements, corner trash cans...

and me.