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 Word Daddy’s Dilemma.
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 Word Daddy’s Dilemma
- My Dialogue Poems will consist of a conversation between two or more people.
- They will be a reflection of different opinions and views.
- The conversation should be controversial or argumentative.
- I plan to use poetic elements and techniques, but no rhythm or meter rule exists. Free verse is acceptable.
- 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.
Word Daddy’s Dilemma “I don’t like the way You’re spreading my business All over town.” Word Daddy said with a frown. “Maybe you should mention When you plan to go away. Then I wouldn’t complain so loud And make you look like a clown.” I advised him after he walked in and sat down. “You know I don’t disappear every day, And do I have to mention, You could have sent Chopper to bail me out. He’s the bail bondsman you write about.” A sly smile spread across the muse’s face. “Yeah, and have you skip town without a trace? You know I’m not made of money. You’d head for Florida, where it’s sunny.” I said, making my point. “Don’t get your nose out of joint. You know you don’t pay me enough To put up with all of your stuff.” The muse flicked mud off his boot. “Besides I don’t give a hoot About anything you decide to do, You made a mess writing about the rougarou.” I thought I saw Word Daddy’s nose start to grow. “How would you even know? You were MIA for so long, I was about to send The Henhouse ladies to look for you.” “I can’t believe you’d put a bounty on my head When all I did was have a little fun,” Word Daddy said. “A little fun! You trashed a celestial inspiration bar Smashed a beer bottle over another muse’s head, Then, you wrecked Blake’s car. You know how he feels about stuff like that. You even kicked Emily Dickenson’s cat.” I looked my muse in the eye And said with a sigh. “Why did you have to drink so much booze?” “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. When are you going to take me to lunch? You know I can’t be creative on an empty stomach.” I logged off my computer and put my pen away, Knowing I was finished for the rest of the day.
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.
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