Unwilling Immigrants

Rooster and I went out to breakfast at a local restaurant yesterday morning. They have a picture hanging on the wall of Italian Prisoners of War during WW II being led down the street in shackles. Word Daddy whispered that I should write a poem about that photo and a conversation between old guys at a liar’s table. If you’ve never attended one of these meetings, you should. You’ll realize none of these guys know a thing about what they are talking about after you’ve listened for five minutes. Once you get past that, a writer will understand that they have a front-row seat to a wonderful exercise in dialogue. I created this dialogue Poem I titled Unwilling Immigrants.

I researched dialogue poetry online without wanting to give my muse credit for an original idea. A form of dialogue poetry already existed, but there weren’t any hard or fast rules, only general suggestions. So, I decided to write out a firm set of rules I plan to use for my dialogue poetry.

Rules I used to write Dialogue Poetry and Unwilling Immigrants

  1. My Dialogue Poems will consist of a conversation between two or more people.
  2. They will be a reflection of different opinions and views.
  3. The conversation should be controversial or argumentative.
  4.  I plan to use poetic elements and techniques, but no rhythm or meter rule exists. Free verse is acceptable.
  5. The dialogue might be tagged or untagged. “He said” or “she said” might or might not be used.

Okay, so I’ve set down a few rules. I hate to give Word Daddy any credit, but he did whisper a good idea into my ear. I plan to have fun writing in this style.

Unwilling Immigrants

Magoo’s was crowded,
It must have been early fall.
I asked, “What’s with that picture 
Hanging on the wall?”
“Well, it must have been 1942  or “43.”
“No, I think it was “44.”
“Shut up, Ralph,
Don’t talk anymore.
Like I said, it was “43,
They marched those prisoners of war
Past the S.S. Kresge,
And around the town square,”
Ed said.
“People turned out from all over town
To do their share.
Name-calling and shouting for liberty,”
Ralph added.
“They put them in that warehouse,
Around the corner from you.
The one they turned into an antique mall,”
I hear a lot of those Italian Prisoners
Of war died of the flu.”
Ed said.
“That ain’t all,
Spirits haunt that building now.
That TV show Ghost Hunters came to investigate.”
Ralph added. 
 “You might want to put your house on the market
And sell it before it’s too late.
You know how folks talk.”
Ed advised. 
“Yeah, they take a dim view
Of ghosts and such,”
Ralph added.
“Shut your mouth.
You talk too much.
Always got to stick your nose
 in other people’s business.”
Ed said.
Ralph snarled, and I asked, “What became 
Of those prisoners after the war?”
“The government set them free.
And they all started working at the car factory.”
They married women and took the test
To be a citizen like all the rest.
A few of those guys even changed their name.”
Ed explained.
“They had a bunch of kids and joined the Catholic Church
And did their part to play the American game.”
Ralph added that because he had to have the last word. 


Who is Molly Shea?

Molly Shea is an accomplished fictional short story writer from Indiana who writes short stories and novels about a fictional town called Tecumseh.  To read more of her short stories and adventures, click here.

Be sure to follow Molly on Twitter!

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Published by henhouselady

I am the author of Saving the Hen House. I didn't know when I started it would turn into a series. I love to ride motorcycles, the blues, my family, and going on adventures. This old hen rocks.

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