Peterloo Poets

Poetry Publishers 1972 - 2009

We are sorry to announce the death of John Whitworth 11.12.1945 to 20.04.19
Many of you will know John was a well loved and respected member of the Peterloo Poets “family” in its day and was a staunch Peterloo Poets supporter over the years.

The funeral will take place at Barham Crematorium Chapel at 12:40pm on Wednesday 22nd May
Barham Crematorium (CT4 6QU) is 9.6 miles (a 20 minute drive) from Canterbury, using the A2 to Dover.
No flowers, please, but any donations would be appreciated, in John’s name, to: Pilgrim’s Hospice, 56 London Road, Canterbury, Kent, CT2 8JA or online at www.pilgrimshospices.org

 Following his editorship of the poetry magazine Phoenix (1958 - 1975), Harry Chambers founded Peterloo Poets in Manchester in 1972.
Peterloo’s first two full collections published in 1976 were Elma Mitchell’s The Poor Man in the Flesh and Edmond Leo Wright’s The Horwich Hennets. Peterloo Poets went on to publish 240 volumes of poetry.

To view the full Peterloo Poets Catalogue
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Crystal Set Dreams



Original Cover Price:



Poems by Mike Harding


Mike Harding’s first volume of poetry, Daddy Edgar’s Pools, was published after he had submitted the poems under a non-de-plume and had them accepted in their own right.

’. . . Harding’s sequence about life in the Yorkshire Dales . . . continually demonstrates how he knows his stuff. He exactly catches the coiled-up forces of natural energy.’
Neil Powell, TLS

Mike Harding
was born into an Irish-Catholic family in Manchester in 1944. He is a poet, playwright, photographer, traveller and stand-up comedian. He has written several humorous books, a book of short stories, The Virgin of the Discos, and four travel books, one of which, Footloose in the Himalaya, his account of his travels in India and Nepal, was shortlisted for the prestigious Boardman Tasker Award for Mountaineering Literature. His last book of poetry for young people, Buns for the Elephants, was awarded the Signal Prize for Children’s Literature. He divides his time between a flat in a converted cotton warehouse in Manchester and an 18th century farmhouse in the Yorkshire Dales.



Though I am poor, with you I hold
The star-spattered sky in my hands as they cup
The water of the cut beside the pub.
Though I was cold, bitten, gnawed by the night wind,
I now am warm and burning
With your brazen glow in my belly.
I have swallowed the sunset, engulfed a golden sea.
I, poor, dull fool, am possessed of wit, silvery
Words spill mackerel-shoaled from my lips.
My dull, plain face is dusted with the beauty
Of a lonely house reflected in a rippled pool.

I clutch the glass in my hand and taste
Today, knowing that tomorrow
Yesterday will lie on my tongue like moss
On a wall, weed on a weir:
And in my cold bare room a face will
Look in from the mirror of another room,
Wondering at the mystery of it all.


Price 7.95 per copy post free (5.30 post free to Associate Members)
Cover illustration: Not credited
Publication: WINTER 1997 (60 pages laminated paperback)