The Squabble

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 The Squabble.

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 The Squabble

My Dialogue Poems will consist of a conversation between two or more people.

  1. They will be a reflection of different opinions and views.
  2. The conversation should be controversial or argumentative.
  3.  I plan to use poetic elements and techniques, but no rhythm or meter rule exists. Free verse is acceptable.
  4. 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.

The Squabble
“You do the same thing every year.
We fly north, and you stop here.
This ain’t no place to lay an egg,
And do I need to mention
we got no time 
To look for another accommodation?”
Mother Goose said.
Stop complaining!
This is the best I can do,
Look around without flinching
You couldn’t have a better view.
And we are close to the water,
Mr. Goose said.
“I don’t like it here
Don’t you remember our two-headed daughter?
The pollution in that creek
Makes our babies weak.”
Mother Goose said with a sigh.
“It might not be perfect 
But it’s better than laying beside the road.
Don’t you remember what happened 
To the Quakers?
They got flattened flatter
Then a crispy cracker. 
Mr. Goose squawked. 
“What about the hawk?
What are you going 
To do about the hawk. 
You know he likes to hang around here.”
Mother Goose started to cry.
“Relax, Mother, I have it covered.
That hawk only likes to hover,
Until he moves in for the kill
He’ll spot the rats first. Yes, he will.”
Mr. Goose spread his wings with pride.
He’d thought of everything.
“You have a point. I like being off the ground.
There are other predators that won’t come around
And I do like the penthouse view.
This nesting spot made for two
The perfect place to settle down
In this sleepy midwestern town.”
Mother Goose admitted as the sun 
Slipped from the sky.
“I guess we can give it a try.”

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!

Water Lilies
The pattern used in creating this verse is a type of call …
Entry 150: The Flaw of Tenacity
my journey in the written word. Therefore, I plan to keep a …
Shades of Green
The pattern used in creating this verse is a type of call …
Entry 149: Moving Over the Same Material
Therefore, I plan to keep a journal in 2023 to document my …

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.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: