“Solitude” With a Side of Wine

When Beth of travelingwinechick won last month’s #MWWC, she won the right to choose this month’s theme and she chose Solitude.

The first thing that came to mind was it probably isn’t a good thing to be in solitude and drink wine. I’m pretty sure there is a name for that. The second thing that came to mind was the famous poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 

I love reading and writing poetry.  I never really maintained a diary, instead I found it easier to put my feelings into a poem. There has always been certain poems that have stuck in my mind because I can relate to them. Solitude, is one of them. The poem was first published in a 1883 issue of The New York Sun. I don’t really remember when I first read it, but the meaning of it stuck with me.

Poetry is a lot like wine. Just as no one should ever tell you what wine you like, no one should tell you what a poem means to you. Shakespeare had it right in Hamlet, “This above all; to thine own self be true.” Only you know what tastes good and only you know how a poem effects you. You don’t need to be a professional to know yourself. 

There are many analyses of Solitude out there, but to me this poem always meant, “Don’t wallow in sorrow. When you are down, pick yourself up and do something about it because people have their own problems and don’t want to deal with yours.” Solitude is about you being isolated from the world when you are feeling down. The only way not be isolated is to figure out what is making you sad and do something to remedy it. No one else can fix your feelings.

Because the #MWWC was started by Jeff, aka The Drunken Cyclist, as a way for wine writers to get back to the roots of writing creatively, I always try to think outside the box and get as imaginative as possible. Therefore I decided to take the original poem which you can read here and reword it so that it relates to wine. I hope you enjoy. 

 

Swirl and the world swirls with you,

Spill and you spill alone;

For the old vine Zin increases its girth,

As the growers decide on which clone.

Plant and terroir will answer;

Prune in the early cool air;

The bunches bound to a joyful sound,

As long as you trim with care.

Harvest, and men will seek you;

Over oak- they turn and go;

They want full bodied wines for their pleasure,

Over ripe will lead to woe.

Blend well and your friends are many;

Pick late, and you lose them all,

There are none to decline your nectared wine,

But alone you must drink life’s gall.

Break 90, wine is hoarded;

80 and world goes by.

Passion to give; and it helps you live,

Drink the wine you like, don’t lie.

Choose the wine that leads to your pleasure

Best vines often see some bane,

But glass by glass we must all sip on

For it’s our palates, we do train.

~Sláinte!