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Poetry Challenge: Round-Robin, The First Thanksgiving

Last post 11-21-2007 10:27 PM by Constance Bates. 14 replies.
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  • 11-13-2007 8:39 PM

    • Constance Bates
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    Poetry Challenge: Round-Robin, The First Thanksgiving

    1. As always, copy the entire poem in your post and add your line.

    2. Place yourself in THAT FIRST THANKSGIVING environment... Here's some background, straight from Wikipedia at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/First_Thanksgiving -- the links below are NOT live, so if interested, you need to go to the original article.

    ------------------- 

     The Virginia colony

     

    A collective prayer of thanksgiving was led by Captain John Woodlief in the Virginia Colony on December 4, 1619 near the current site of Berkeley Plantation, where celebrations are still held each year in November. Woodleif addressed the 38 men with: "We ordaine that the day of our ships arrival at the place assigned for plantation in the land of Virginia shall be yearly and perpetually kept holy as a day of Thanksgiving to Almighty God." [1]

    [edit] The Pilgrims

    The Pilgrims were particularly thankful to Squanto, the Native American who taught them how to catch eel, grow corn and who served as an interpreter for them (Squanto had learned English as a slave in Europe and travels in England). Without Squanto's help the Pilgrims might not have survived in the New World.[citation needed] The explorers who later came to be called the "Pilgrims" set apart a day to celebrate at Plymouth immediately after their first harvest, in 1621. At the time, this was not regarded as a Thanksgiving observance; harvest festivals were existing parts of English and Wampanoag tradition alike. Several American colonists have personal accounts of the 1621 feast in Plymouth, Massachusetts:

    William Bradford, in Of Plymouth Plantation:

    They began now to gather in the small harvest they had, and to fit up their house and dwelling against winter, being all well recovered in health and strength and had all things in good plenty. For as some were thus employed in affairs abroad, others were exercised in fishing, about cod and bass and other fish, of which they took good store, of which every family had their portion. All the summer there was no want; and now began to come in store of fowl, as winter approached, of which this place did abound when they came first (but afterward decreased by degrees). And besides waterfowl there was great store of wild turkeys, of which they took many, besides venison, etc. Besides, they had about a peck of meal a week to a person, or now since harvest, Indian corn to that proportion. Which made many afterwards write so largely of their plenty here to their friends in England, which were not feigned by true reports.

    Edward Winslow, in Mourt's Relation:

    Our harvest being gotten in, our governor sent four men on fowling, that so we might after a special manner rejoice together after we had gathered the fruits of our labor. They four in one day killed as much fowl as, with a little help beside, served the company almost a week. At which time, amongst other recreations, we exercised our arms, many of the Indians coming amongst us, and among the rest their greatest king Massasoit, with some ninety men, whom for three days we entertained and feasted, and they went out and killed five deer, which we brought to the plantation and bestowed on our governor, and upon the captain and others. And although it be not always so plentiful as it was at this time with us, yet by the goodness of God, we are so far from want that we often wish you partakers of our plenty.

    The mention of ninety men in the Winslow account is of interest, as the Native People present would have outnumbered the 50 surviving English at that point. The two preceding passages are the only records of the event, but historians presume that both groups were exposed to unfamiliar forms of celebration.

    The Pilgrims did not hold a true Thanksgiving until 1623, when it followed a drought, prayers for rain, and a subsequent rain shower. Irregular Thanksgivings continued after favorable events and days of fasting after unfavorable ones. In the Plymouth tradition, a thanksgiving day was a church observance, rather than a feast day.

    Gradually, an annual Thanksgiving after the harvest developed in the mid-17th century. This did not occur on any set day or necessarily on the same day in different colonies in America.

    The Massachusetts Bay Colony (consisting mainly of Puritan Christians) celebrated Thanksgiving for the first time in 1630, and frequently thereafter until about 1680, when it became an annual festival in that colony; and Connecticut as early as 1639 and annually after 1647, except in 1675. The Dutch in New Netherland appointed a day for giving thanks in 1644 and occasionally thereafter.   Charlestown, Massachusetts held the first recorded Thanksgiving observance June 29, 1671 by proclamation of the town's governing council.



     

    Constance

    -- Artella ~ Words, Art, Spirit, Production Editor
    -- The Bates MoTELLA blog and gallery
    -- Constance Comments gratitude journal
  • 11-13-2007 8:45 PM In reply to

    • Constance Bates
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    Re: Poetry Challenge: Round-Robin, The First Thanksgiving

    The poem begins:

     

     

    I thought to never see this day! Our prayers 

    Constance

    -- Artella ~ Words, Art, Spirit, Production Editor
    -- The Bates MoTELLA blog and gallery
    -- Constance Comments gratitude journal
  • 11-13-2007 8:51 PM In reply to

    • Fancifalls
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    Re: Poetry Challenge: Round-Robin, The First Thanksgiving

    I thought to never see this day! Our prayers 

    fly to You through the rays of autumn sun.

  • 11-13-2007 9:30 PM In reply to

    • auntbobby
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    Re: Poetry Challenge: Round-Robin, The First Thanksgiving

    I thought to never see this day! Our prayers 

    Fly to You through the rays of autumn sun.

    So long, so long we've waited, unawares

    Aunt Bobby at Artella
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  • 11-14-2007 12:28 PM In reply to

    • Constance Bates
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    Re: Poetry Challenge: Round-Robin, The First Thanksgiving

     

     

    I thought to never see this day! Our pray'rs 

    Fly to You through the rays of autumn sun.

    So long, so long we've waited, unawares

    That in these Strange Ones Your will would be done.

     

    (A writer's note: Look what happened! A beautiful first verse, four lines in ABAB rhyme, 10 syllables to a line! -- Wonderfully played!  Can we keep it up?  Here's our setting now -- we're clearly at the party: are we thinking back on hardship... frightening encounters with Indians... watching the day play out... Or are the Strange Ones NOT Indians?  Perhaps they're ourselves -- or visitors altogether unseen!)  

    Constance

    -- Artella ~ Words, Art, Spirit, Production Editor
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  • 11-14-2007 12:29 PM In reply to

    • Julie Burger
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    Re: Poetry Challenge: Round-Robin, The First Thanksgiving

    I thought to never see this day! Our prayers 

    Fly to You through the rays of autumn sun.

    So long, so long we've waited, unawares

    Let peace grace us always and let our enemies be none

    Julie
  • 11-14-2007 5:29 PM In reply to

    • Fancifalls
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    Re: Poetry Challenge: Round-Robin, The First Thanksgiving

    I thought to never see this day! Our pray'rs 

    Fly to You through the rays of autumn sun.

    So long, so long we've waited, unawares

    That in these Strange Ones Your will would be done.

     

    The time that's passed, the hands we grasp, all new

  • 11-14-2007 7:42 PM In reply to

    • Constance Bates
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    Re: Poetry Challenge: Round-Robin, The First Thanksgiving

     Julie, this is a poem in itself!  You captured nicely the sentiments of ages.

     

    We must have entered at the same time -- there's more... 

    Constance

    -- Artella ~ Words, Art, Spirit, Production Editor
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  • 11-14-2007 7:44 PM In reply to

    • Constance Bates
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    Re: Poetry Challenge: Round-Robin, The First Thanksgiving

    I thought to never see this day! Our pray'rs 

    Fly to You through the rays of autumn sun.

    So long, so long we've waited, unawares

    That in these Strange Ones Your will would be done.

     

    The time that's passed, the hands we grasp, all new

    The oddly painted Ones are brothers, still: 

    Constance

    -- Artella ~ Words, Art, Spirit, Production Editor
    -- The Bates MoTELLA blog and gallery
    -- Constance Comments gratitude journal
  • 11-14-2007 7:57 PM In reply to

    • auntbobby
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    Re: Poetry Challenge: Round-Robin, The First Thanksgiving

    Julie:

    I LOVE your fourth line that really completes the poem and makes a "grace"!

    Great job!

    Aunt Bobby at Artella
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    Bobby@ArtellaLand.com
  • 11-15-2007 7:58 AM In reply to

    • Julie Burger
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    Re: Poetry Challenge: Round-Robin, The First Thanksgiving

    Hi Constance!

    Hi Aunt Bobby!

    I always wondered what happened if two people tried to post to the same place at the same time. So I guess one of the entries gets lost. I am always inspired by the lines that come before the one I write. That's why I love these round robin poems. If you told me that I would be participating in a poetry writing forum a year ago, I would have said "not in this lifetime". That just goes to show you, never say never. I really had no intention to end this poem so quickly. Perhaps that line was a little premature? Do you think we could try another?

    Julie
  • 11-15-2007 11:55 AM In reply to

    • auntbobby
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    Re: Poetry Challenge: Round-Robin, The First Thanksgiving

    Julie:

    The little four-line poem that you finished stands beautifully by itself.

    In the meantime, the longer poem keeps going -- two from the same start!

    Wonderful, huh?

    Aunt Bobby at Artella
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  • 11-15-2007 1:53 PM In reply to

    • Constance Bates
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    Re: Poetry Challenge: Round-Robin, The First Thanksgiving

     Okay: We've agreed that Julie Burger's line was a perfect ending for a verse of "grace" -- and to continue for another ending, too.

     
    Here's what we have so far:

    -- verses of four lines each

    -- ten syllables to a line

    -- rhyme pattern, ABAB

    I can't wait! 

     

    I thought to never see this day! Our pray'rs 

    Fly to You through the rays of autumn sun.

    So long, so long we've waited, unawares

    That in these Strange Ones Your will would be done.

     

    The time that's passed, the hands we grasp, all new

    The oddly painted Ones are brothers, still:

    Constance

    -- Artella ~ Words, Art, Spirit, Production Editor
    -- The Bates MoTELLA blog and gallery
    -- Constance Comments gratitude journal
  • 11-16-2007 1:55 PM In reply to

    • Julie Burger
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    Re: Poetry Challenge: Round-Robin, The First Thanksgiving

    I thought to never see this day! Our pray'rs 

    Fly to You through the rays of autumn sun.

    So long, so long we've waited, unawares

    That in these Strange Ones Your will would be done.

    The time that's passed, the hands we grasp, all new

    The oddly painted Ones are brothers, still:

    Together we stand in early morn' dew

    Julie
  • 11-21-2007 10:27 PM In reply to

    • Constance Bates
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    Re: Poetry Challenge: Round-Robin, The First Thanksgiving

    I thought to never see this day! Our pray'rs 

    Fly to You through the rays of autumn sun.

    So long, so long we've waited, unawares

    That in these Strange Ones Your will would be done.

    The time that's passed, the hands we grasp, all new

    The oddly painted Ones are brothers, still:

    Together we stand in early morn' dew

    To thank You in the ways that are your will. 

    Constance

    -- Artella ~ Words, Art, Spirit, Production Editor
    -- The Bates MoTELLA blog and gallery
    -- Constance Comments gratitude journal
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