{"id":26611,"date":"2021-01-15T22:05:00","date_gmt":"2021-01-15T22:05:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/abingdonblog.co.uk\/?p=26611"},"modified":"2021-01-15T22:05:00","modified_gmt":"2021-01-15T22:05:00","slug":"abingdon-poets-1-willougby-weaver-ian-pindar-andrew-jamison-phanuel-bacon","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.abingdonblog.co.uk\/?p=26611","title":{"rendered":"Abingdon Poets (1) – Willoughby Weaving, Ian Pindar, Andrew Jamison, Phanuel Bacon"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Abingdon
\nWilloughby Weaving attended Abingdon School, and Pembroke College. He was a teacher in Ireland and signed up at the start of the first World War to serve in the Royal Irish Rifles. After being invalided out, he returned to teach and became a prolific poet. He is now mostly forgotten apart from some war poems – revisited during the recent 100 year remembrance of the first world war<\/a>). Here is a poem written in 1920<\/p>\n

Before Thunder<\/strong><\/p>\n

In one vast cloud the skies were clad;
\nThere was a silence worse than sound
\nDiscordant, such as makes men mad
\nIn muffled dungeons underground,
\nWhen first they sing, and scream to save
\nTheir deafening reason from the grave,
\nThat living grave of worse than death.
\nThere was no stir of lightest breath
\nBut hot stagnation in the air
\nLike a suspended horror there
\nPoised at its utmost by the stress
\nOf unimaginable excess
\nBirth-bound. Then suddenly at last
\nThe lightening like a lancet passed,
\nAnd all that fierce and maddening strain
\nFell ruining with routs of rain.<\/p>\n

Ian Pindar first came to public attention after the National Poetry Competition in 2009. You can read his successful poem, Mrs Beltinska in the Bath<\/em>, at https:\/\/poems.poetrysociety.org.uk\/poets\/ian-pindar\/<\/a>. Ian was interviewed by the Oxford Mail<\/a> and said “The reason I love poetry is because it is ambiguous \u2013 there is mystery there.”<\/em><\/p>\n

Here Ian is reading one of his poems from a collection called Constellations
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