The cultural quarter

Confetti once had a life of its own

Before it got torn and rubbished for

A known good cause

At Arthur’s wedding, during the war

They used maps of the city

As the paper was superfluous and out dated

Because the bombing hit hard

At the city centre of the now glittering cultural quarter

The old Anglican Church survived as if protected by

God himself. His hands sealing like cellophane the ancient architecture

And growling gargoyles from bullets and bombs

Spat out by Luftwaffe’s.

The rain and wind however left its decay

I know no one who is buried there

Now Rutland st has life. Charm and charisma

Ooze from its streets. Where windrush afro Caribbean

Gents dressed in tailored suits, leather brogues and sloppy hats

Played dominoes at the LUCA centre

The centre of their new found world in the western hemisphere

Slapping those chips down through tables

Drinking 100 plus proof rum, spliffs and Cubans

Before smoking bans and vaps where ever thought of.

Now 20 yrs on is a sound proofed theatre

Where they once were. Broadway shows garnish posters

On curved walls, Every emotion felt in the breath of its colourful display

As Leicester arrives on the map not small and insignificant

Like the pinning of a tail on a donkey

But big and broad like sprawling buildings

Displayed on an ever growing cartographical map