Throwing Crockery Poem by Roy Ballard

My daughter has just thrown a plate
at her mate.
So! The old custom survives
among wives.
Her maternal grandad, now late,
hurled a plate
at her gran
and my dad, also dead,
ducked his head
for his life just as much
from his wife
as the hun (of '41) .
In a stew
I once threw, being studious
and moody-ous:
Acta Crystallographica,1987, part 2
at my wife
who is perfect but never gives up
and annoyed with me once became
so untame
as to hit me with tea
in a cup.
When all's said:
marriage is made in bed.
It's unstable
at table.