So today, my first back in my northern home since the beginning of January, I'm crazy busy doing laundry, unpacking, cutting the cat's claws, sifting through mail (the post box kind), making appointments, generally going crazy, and today's prompt would have me write about wine and love?
"Poets have been writing about love and wine, wine and love, since . . . well, since the time of Anacreon, a Greek poet who was rather partial to that subject matter. Anacreon developed a particular meter for his tipsy, lovey-dovey verse, but Anacreontics in English generally do away with meter-based constraints. Anacreontics might be described as a sort of high-falutin’ drinking song. So today I challenge you to write about wine-and-love."
I got nothing. Nothing, I tell you!
So here goes nothing:
The Poetry of Wine and Love
Wine, wine, beautiful wine
Find me a bar and I'll set up a shrine
Call me a fool, call me a lover
This is what happens when 'round wine I hover
Red stuff or white stuff or pink in-between
All goes to the crotch if you know what I mean
That's why I'm digging out bottles and glasses
In hopes that we tipple and fall on our asses
There's nothing like po'try to make us feel fine
Po'try and lovin' and three kinds of wine!
There. Can I go back to my laundry now? Oh, screw that; the sun's shining. I'm going for a walk!