The story of Helen Keller

Can you see the unseen?

Perceive a blind eye’s sight?

You pity my defect

Yet I have seen the light

“What light?” You might laugh -

“Why, the brightest light of all!”

That which moves every seed,

In every star and soul

You see not yonder flower,

Only but a sprout

Its finger-like petals

Towards my soul reach out

That soft and silken touch

Of a flower’s gentle petal

Is like a kind kiss from God

Upon which my fingers settle

I need not sight to see

For He, who is greater than me

Placed a happy, gentle love

Inside each and every one of us.

- Lina Scarborough

          © Copyright 2020. All rights reserved.    

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The lightning-thief

                                               The squalls of wind had gathered;
                                                  Thick clouds began to form
                                               To the march of rumbling thunder
                                                   Upon the dark wings of the storm;

                                               The gales whipped up to a fury, 

                                                   Zeus’ mighty voice was loud

                                               As he gathered gleaming thunder-bolts

                                                   And hurled them as lightning from a cloud

                                               But in the distance of the twilight sky,

                                                   Looking out across the plains 

                                               Could be heard the sound of cavalry

                                                   Approaching through the rains;

                                               For a rider chased storms on horseback

                                                   With a kite and golden key,

                                               Claiming he had found the answer

                                                   To unlock Pandora’s mystery

                                               But those who saw his kite aloft

                                                   Shook their heads in disbelief,

                                               Because someone said the Philosopher

                                                   Had claimed to be a lightning-thief:

                                               For every arrow to be hurled by gods

                                                   Must be attended by immortal squires;

                                               (Until it was rumoured that Mr. Franklin

                                                   Could disarm the thunder’s fires)

                                               And countless times when lightning struck

                                                   Sparks would fly from village spire

                                               While all fell silent round about

                                                   Until someone called out Fire!

                                               But many said those harmed were evil-doers

                                                   So spare them not the rod;

                                               For when the flame has found its mark,

                                                   ’Tis a punishment sent from God

                                               And on Sunday Boanerges preached 

                                                   To a crowd that gazed in wonder;

                                               Up until the day that came

                                                   When Mr. Franklin stole his thunder

                                               And so it was the Philosopher  

                                               First assuaged the lightning’s grief

                                               To make the world a better place
                                                   With promethean mischief

Today thunderstorms are usually admired for their wild beauty more than anything else, but in the past they were often a source of genuine terror. An event which perhaps illustrates this better than any other occurred in Brescia, a quaint little violin-making town at the foothills of the Italian Alps. It was here in August of 1769 that lightning struck the bell-tower of one of its many churches where a huge stockpile of gunpowder was stored in the vaults. The strike caused a terrific explosion which devastated much of the town, leaving hundreds of people dead in the ensuing firestorm. Ironically, the church was selected as a supposedly safe place for stock-piling gunpowder owing to the widely-held superstition at the time that the ringing of church-bells warded off lightning. The Brescia disaster was also by no means an isolated event: similar incidents reportedly killed thousands on the island of Sumatra in 1782 and Rhodes in 1856.

It wasn’t until the 18th century however, when science began to unravel the phenomenon of electricity, that a solution to the danger lightning frequently posed to tall buildings was developed. One person who took a particularly keen interest in this problem was the Philadelphia-based polymath Benjamin Franklin, whose breadth of interest included everything from experimenting with hot-air balloons to the invention of bi-focal spectacles. In 1752 he proposed a practical, if extremely dangerous method for demonstrating that lightning was a manifestation of the phenomenon of electricity. 

Taking advantage of the recent invention of the capacitor (then known as the ‘Leyden jar’), Franklin proposed that by attaching a moistened string to a kite flown during a thunder-storm one would be able to charge a capacitor, thereby proving that lightning was in fact no more than the discharge of an electrical current. By his own account, Franklin and his son William later carried out a similar experiment in which they observed how sparks jumped between a key attached to the kite-string and Franklin’s own hand. There is however lively debate as to whether Franklin - who also had a mischievous penchant for self-embellishment - made the story up, or genuinely observed it as reported. Regardless of the factual accuracy of his kite-and-key-experiment, Franklin is credited with the invention of the lightning-rod in 1749, and countless buildings, not to mention human lives, have since been spared during thunderstorms due to the ingenuity of his invention.

- Matthew Edward Scarborough

  © Copyright 2020 poetry and text. All rights reserved.

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Here’s to the New

                                                 Come watch the downpour of rain,

bring a glass of sparkling champagne.

The droplets are falling,

crashing to the ground

My eyes survey the horizon, I astound

how the air is moving

Something is changing,

the world is grey,

yet revitalising, amazing.

The bubbles are rising

in my imaginary glass

Time to wash the old away,

and let it pass

New beginnings, new fears,

new conquests begotten;

Ching-ching, Old Love -

You are gone, but not forgotten.

Lina Scarborough

Copyright 2020. All rights reserved. Image source.

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