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 High Maintenance.
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 High Maintenance
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.
High Maintenance “That girl is going to be high maintenance,” The female angel said with a smile. “Ain’t that the truth? It’s her mama’s fault. The woman gives her everything she wants.” The male angel said with a frown. “I swear sometimes you can be so uncouth. At least we don’t have to worry for a while.” The first angel tried to unfold her wings, But they put up resistance. “Says who? You know as well as me Bad habits start when they’s young, It’s a bad thing when the Devil pulls the strings.’ The second angel scratched his head. “I take everything you say with a grain of salt. That child was born to dance. And wear a sparkly gown, Woven from moonbeams and romance. And all the happiness a good life brings.” Angel one stuck out her tongue. “You ain’t got a lick of sense If you believe she won’t be hurt When things don’t go her way. Poor girls don’t always find a rich man, you know. Even one as fair of face,” Angel two rolled over in the dirt. “That’s a terrible thing to say. The girl has more than enough time to grow. Who says she needs a man in the first place? That child is going to make her own way.” Angle one extended her wings They caught air “I’m done talking to you.’ She said with flair And flew away. “Like I said, it’s all her mama’s fault. And in my defense I never said life was fair.” Came from the mouth of angel two
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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