Rants, Whispers and Cries: Thinking of Peterloo

This poem was especially written for the 200th anniversary of the Peterloo massacre by Andrew Rudd, Poet-in-Residence at Manchester Cathedral, and featured in the Peterloo Commemoration Service on 7th July. A collectable letterpress ‘broadside’ print of the poem is available, in a limited edition of 200. The title lettering by Stephen Raw, is taken from a clandestine banner made after the massacre. This broadside has been printed at the Incline Press, Oldham by Graham Moss and Kathy Whalen, and costs £5. Please contact Andrew Rudd if you would like one. 

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​1
The city seems so quiet
In early morning sun.
Towers sprout on the skyline
Like a fist in the air 
Unfolding its fingers 
One by one.

    Beware those who believe
    they own the earth -
    theirs is not the kingdom

2
Next to the helter-skelter,
Outside Manchester Central:
Boarding, planks, cement
And a Mather and Ellis
Stonemason’s van 
Constructing a monument.

    Beware those who live like kings
    but refuse
    the responsibility of kings

3
We watch from our moral vantage
Across two hundred years.
From Oldham, Middleton, Stockport
Marchers converge for hours
Until the square’s a multitude
Like ripened corn or flowers. 

    Beware those who assume
    they are on the side of righteousness -
    but forget those who hunger and thirst

4
‘Ye are many, they are few’
The Cap of Liberty rising.
You couldn’t move for people – 
So close their hats were touching. 
Horses, muskets, sabres, 
Ready, waiting, watching.

    Beware those
    who live in fear
    when they are the cause of fear

5
If it’s power versus people
The chance of peace looks thin.
Fife bands, banners, soldiers -
So many caught between.
If it’s nail versus hammer,
Who do you think’s going to win?

    Beware those who build walls
    in the name of God - they will find themselves
    walled out of life

6
And have those cries been silenced 
In a world that’s split by hate? 
They whisper through the library,
They echo in the street.  
A passing siren, blue lights, 
An ambulance heads for Deansgate.

    Forgive us who make monuments
    of regret, about acts
    we are still committing
​

Andrew Rudd, 
​Poet-in-Residence Manchester Cathedral