Wolfing Poems | Examples

Mr and Mrs Heartbroken

The first heart attack was quite mild:
he put it down to indigestion 
at first, but the pain persisted.
Some pills and lectures on lifestyle changes
followed the stay in hospital.
Yes, he'd try to stop smoking, he said,
and to cut out the fatty foods.
But the craving for cigarettes 
was too strong and he secretly smoked,
while assuring me that he'd quit!
The next heart attack was much worse;
he really did try after that -
a fat-free diet was no fun
and nicotine patches were no help...
but he stuck to it for a while
(I think it was a week, maybe two).
Then I smelt the smoke on his clothes,
saw him wolfing down bacon sandwiches,
slyly like a naughty schoolboy.
By then I pretended I didn't know - 
my nagging was killing him, he said.
The third heart attack finished him.
I'm heartbroken that his heart was broken...

They Gathered Outside My House

Unlike the model T Ford
They come in both black and brown
And also unlike model T
It’s brown that is getting me down 

But what I refer to is no early car
And it isn’t a cute little mouse
It’s whopping great rats and they frightened my cats
As they gathered outside my house

I’ve baited the snap traps with chocolate and cheese
And, boy, are those rats hard to please
I’ve even tried peanuts and freshly popped peas
And tuna was barely a tease

They’re climbing my bird table like they’re on speed
And wolfing down copious volumes of seed 
They extricate bait out of all of the traps
I’ll catch one tomorrow… perhaps… perhaps

Those hideous creatures are still in my yard
Should catching some rats ever be quite this hard 
I’m halfway doolally from rodent war-games
And totally bonkers… for giving them names.

Cold Comforts

Beyond the wave-sacked pebbles
lie the pockmarked dunes,
sea-wind swept heaps,
burrowed by the claws of scaly thrashers.

Here they huddle, the working class,
flogging grim pleasures,
wolfing eggy sandwiches,
dipping tea-stained teeth into beakers
as a chill summer drizzles on.

I am a brine-spattered small fry,
a boyhood caught in a swirl
and flounder, bare feet
skimming the slimy kelp, stalking
an ankle tugging surf.

Mother, her demeanor
soggy and sagging at last,
pleads to be led back
to the creaking camper.

Father smokes a plug of leathery shag,
grunts upright, walks toward the sea,
looks to see God knows what,
then turns to drag me away,
from our holiday day.

Food Food Glorious Food

Food, food, glorious food
Eating is such a wonderful thing
No matter what time of day it is
Wolfing down makes my dear heart sing

Why I get out of bed each day
The smell of bacon frying away
Follow my proboscis to the kitchen
Where Cathie's prepares brekkie each day

It's that oh so heavenly smell
Footsies don't even touch the floor
Gliding down the stairs like a nymph
So enthralled like many mornings before

I sit down and dear dear Cathie
Serves me brekkie that's fit for a king
Burst out with, “What a Beautiful Morning”
As we both raise our voices and sing

A delightful scene, albeit unusual
It's how we Ellisons start off the morn
Singing and dancing and kissing and stuff
Makes me so overjoyed to be born

Food, food, glorious food
Eating is such a wonderful thing
No matter what time of day it is
Wolfing down makes my dear heart sing

Cherished Reminiscences

"recently scenes of early life have stolen into my mind, like breezes blown ..."

                       Quote by _Samuel Taylor Coleridge (from his writings)


             Buried deep in the coffin of my mind,
         Memories of my youth; aged like fine wine.
          I've got a few cherished ones to exhume!

I recall one chilly autumn noon running around the park 
     With the neighborhood kids, then I'd run indoors
To warm up when winds start to groan and whistle. Brrr!

   Ah, the halcyon days of summer sitting in the shade 
  Wolfing down watermelons with my best friend,  Lloyd,
    Cheering on kids playing basketball in the backyard.

      I remember one harsh winter sprinkling play sand  
     And rock salt on walkways with Dad before snowfall,
         So snow won't stick to the ground. Fun times!



Writing Challenge - Past Memories - ''T'' Forms Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Theme: Past Memories
Date written: 10/19/2022

Lassie

Sitting at McDonald's at a  table up from an old guy in painter attire taking his lunch break. Wolfing down his food  he talked on his phone all the while .As he commented about his day and asked about whoever was on  the phone .He must have been asked about his meal.Stopping to lay his sandwich down he eyed it
With disgust and before resuming its consumption said",It ain't much but maybe it will make a turd "

Waite there's more.As he struggles to navigate his belly out of the booth he audibly farted said" What did you say girl ,Timmy is in the well,laughed to himself and left.


You can't make this crap up.

Guess he was stuck in the **** stage.Perhaps I am as well.I am inexplicably drawn to a certain type of companion that in the name of rehabilitation shall remain nameless.

Pebble Beach Day Out

Beyond the wave-sacked,
lie the pockmarked dunes, heaps dug
by the claws of scaly thrashers.

Here they huddle, my blood kin
flogging grim pleasures,
wolfing eggy sandwiches,
dipping tea-stained teeth into beakers.

By a shoaling shale and monochrome spray
one brine-splattered small fry.
A boyhood caught in a swirling freshet,
he whales barefoot in the flounder,
skimming the slimy kelp, stalking
a slippage of tugging surf.

Her demeanor soggy at last, mother
goads to be led to the creaking camper.
Father smokes a plug of leathery shag,
grunts upright, walks toward the sea.

A toppled thermos and leftovers
scooped up and lugged away.
Windswept, the lingerers
trudge from the chilly churn,
while a soused and hectoring bay
records a working-class holiday.

Appetite Loss

Dining alfresco under blue sky.
 Heard loud, smelly fart nearby
  Culprit laughed until he cried;
T'was a kid wolfing down stir fry
   My appetite was shot, no lie;
   Couldn't finish my apple pie.


Fart-Tastic Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke
Date written: 09/26/2021

Note: This is a silly work of fiction, so the "no lie" in line 5 is obviously a lie, lol.

Sometimes

Sometimes more is less...

less if one is not controlling 
the impulse to open wide – taking
a huge bite – wolfing down and 
hurrying along to the next, possessed 
by the insatiable spirit of Famine;

Sometimes less is more filling...
clutter leaving little room for
God to manifest His Abundance;

Sometimes is always sometimes...
but God is infinite, and evermore
substantial –

A New Spring Webbing

Calendared nature admits
		winter has come and gone
		and makes no apologies
		for lingering chilled moments;

		The audacious mendacity of spring
		has clamped down a frost-bite 
		on the wolfing climatic ignorance
		of ignoramuses who wallow in deceit;

		Albeit it all, the cosmic deceit of nature
		cannot be ignored by seasoned sufferers 
		and their sinusitis chains of oppression:

		Now the winter of our discontent
		must yield to a spring’s new awareness.

Irreconcilable Paradoxes

Strange, funny even; 
             someone spending two hours 
         in the gym at noon, sweating it out 

          then defeats the purpose at night
            by wolfing down 3 large slices
                of cheese pizza for dinner!

        Yet I hold my laughter and criticism 
        because I'm sure that at some point 
              I've been unknowingly guilty 
                  of such self-sabotage!

           I'm also sure it has caused friction 
            in relationships, even break-ups!

          Head-scratching; a dyed-in-the-wool 
             pro-lifer vehemently supporting
          the death penalty. I can almost hear 
                 a thought out there going...

          "What the? I don't get that one!"

        Yeah, it's a head-scratcher for me, too
    I bet it discombobulates even an oxymoron!
       It will make sense to me when 2+2 is 5!



POLARITIES AND PARADOXES Poetry Contest (Winner: 4th Place)
Sponsored by Line Gauthier 
Date written and submitted: 01/16/2020

Cold Comforts

Beyond the wave-sacked,
lie the pockmarked dunes, heaps dug
by the claws of scaly thrashers.

Here they huddle, my blood kin
flogging grim pleasures,
wolfing eggy sandwiches,
dipping tea-stained teeth into beakers.

By a shoaling shale and monochrome spray
one brine-splattered small fry.
A boyhood caught in a swirling freshet,
he whales barefoot in the flounder,
skimming the slimy kelp, stalking
a slippage of tugging surf.

Her demeanor soggy at last, mother
goads to be led to the creaking camper.
Father smokes a plug of leathery shag,
grunts upright, walks toward the sea.

A toppled thermos and leftovers
scooped up and lugged away.
Windswept, the lingerers 
trudge from the chilly churn,
while a soused and hectoring bay 
records a working-class holiday.

A New Spring Webbing

Calendared nature admits
winter has come and gone
and makes no apologies
for lingering chilled moments;

The audacious mendacity of spring
has clamped down a frost-bite 
on the wolfing climatic ignorance
of ignoramuses who wallow in deceit;

Albeit it all, the cosmic deceit of nature
cannot be ignored by seasoned suffers 
and their sinusitis chains of oppression:

Now the winter of our discontent
must yield to a spring’s new awareness.

The Day I Ate His Purpley Eggplant

It was moms birthday she loved eggplant 
I didn't hear the man as he began to rant   
I was a cooked child kneeling on stoic air 
in the back room I ate, without his stare   

a purple eggplant was devoured as I trembled  
wolfing it down, I quickly re-assembled 
no I did not care, mom wasn't there    
to see her child labor without fair, fare . 

January 16, 2019

We Weave Webbed Words While Welcoming Wisdom

We weave webbed words while welcoming wisdom.

Whiny William Walleye Was Witnessed Wandering Westwardly While Wailing Wildly. We Were Warily Watching Will Wobbly Walk When We Winced Worriedly.
Why, We Wondered, Would Will Wear What Was Winter Ware When Warm Weather Was Weldingly Wounding.
Will Was Washed-out, Worse, We Watched Will Wither, Wide-eyed, Without Whispering Warning.
Why Were We Waiting When We Wished Will Well?
Waving, We Went Were Will Was With Water. Will Wouldn't Willingly Waste Well Willed Welcoming Water, Would Will? Will Weakly Wheezed While Wolfing What Will Wanted, Which Was Wonderful Well-Water.

• Short Wolfing Poems
• Famous Wolfing Poems
• Best Wolfing Poems
• Read Wolfing Poems
• Long Wolfing Poems
• Wolfing Quotes