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