When a Bowl Hits a Tree

MMMMMMM. so many well crafted lines, and such a graceful trajectory from start to finish.
I like "maybe it was the years

of other things broken

at louder, higher pitch

which has inured us.."
Right there, a whole history is implied. Excellent.

Thank you for reading Gita!

Enjoyed this Linda! creative choice and application of words here.

contusion of wood upon ceramic

anger fueled heft behind the hand

inured us from
giving any more damns

For your first published poem - this is a great piece. The form is seasoned. I really like your use of the line in this work.

Great use of sound, as well:
"how the bowl hurled across
the yard, arugula
and spinach spinning slow
motion; perhaps it was
velocity, anger"
A very good poem, Linda.

maybe it was the rage in her ears that masked the true sound. wow, where to begin so much great stuff going on here. I simply adore how grape muscari rolls around on my tongue and the salad mixture spinning in flight was wonderful. just a marvelously constructed piece linda.

Congratulations, Linda. Your poem is beautiful. It's accessible, which appeals to me tremendously, but it's not simple. There are so many layers and nuances, visuals, sound, and motion. I get the sense that these are ancient tensions, which, woe is me, I understand well. Thank you for sharing it. ~ Olivia

Thanks all for your reading and your kind words. Thank goddess for all those 'negative' emotions which spawn poems and such. I appreciate your encouragement. Peace...

Burbon bottles rattling - so much said in that line. Wonderful use of sound and language.

Why thank you so much for dropping by to read, dear Laurita. Mucho appreciated...

The years of other things broken. Oh yes. Love this.

And a good one it is; for one's first published poem.
Loved the last line.

I love the mastery of not quite saying what wants to be said, and thereby saying it. Very cool.

The flight of the bowl a perfect image, so loaded domestically, but then thudding hollowly, salad strewn about...all rendered almost in slow motion. Beautiful yet controlled language and phrasing...
perhaps it was/velocity, anger/ fueled heft behind the hand

Thanks Darryl, Larry, Beate, and Doug for reading and your kind words. Peace...

Linda, I read this a while back, thinking to take a second look, glad I did. I can't help but make a baseball analogy throughout - the distinctive sound of bat on ball. The 'arc' is the pitch,uh-oh, knuckleball, 'spinning slow motion', then with that 'thudding clink', a simple ground ball - 'such feeble protest' - second to first, three out - 'giving any more damns'.
Maybe because the season just started, but rather because the writer described something so well and with such images, that she pitched a perfect game by evoking something so far-fetched, showing she connects with us all.

Excellant and more.

The sonics are fantastic. The whole piece has such pent-up power, followed by an equally strong release. Amazing tension, lovely poem.

Walter, thanks for taking a second look; when someone comes back for more, it makes my soul sing. I am so into baseball now (son plays Little League), thank you for the analogy, though when written, unintended.

Lou (!). Thank you. Glad you liked the tension; I wrote this minutes after 'the event' and did not edit a word or a line. Peace, Linda

Great title, great ending, great poem between.

Truly appreciate how you took a single incident, the hurling of a bowl against a tree, and used that image, examined that moment, to expand on the larger story behind it and the larger story inside all of us. Excellent.

First published poem! What a bar, but one I'm sure you've cleared many times since.