Stokes Croft
By David C Johnson ©October 2012

Stokes Croft twinned with Wolf’s dystopia
In the minds of Waitrose shoppers
No notion it’s a cornucopia
All they see is Kevlar’d coppers

But here we have true urban mix
Of cafés, artists, drunks and bums
Healers, dealers, guitar licks,
The rhythm of the chakra drums

No longer is Stokes Croft neglected
It’s dolling up its wasted face
Shoulders back, new clothes selected
Street art is its trim of lace

Republic stripling, artists’ quarter,
Hope exists where sorrow festered
The community has brought a
Light. No longer is Stokes Croft sequestered