Ask a New Question
Menu

poem about overeating

7 answers

In the glow of a kitchen, the feast is laid bare,
A table adorned with delights everywhere.
Golden crisp chicken, a pie piled high,
Each bite like a moment, a reason to sigh.

The clink of the silverware, laughter rings loud,
As plates fill with bounty, a gluttonous shroud.
The mashed potatoes, buttery dreams,
Swirled with the stories that comfort redeems.

Yet as the hours tick softly away,
What was joy turns to weight, in a gluttonous sway.
The heart feels a heaviness, wider the waist,
As the line between pleasure and pain is displaced.

Oh, how sweet is the taste of excess divine,
Yet lingering whispers say it’s crossing a line.
The last piece of cake calls, seductive and bold,
And I find myself caught in the web of the gold.

Each forkful a fleeting escape from the grind,
Yet I bury the pangs of a conscience unkind.
The joy turns to burden, the smile turns to sighs,
As I wrestle the shadows that linger and rise.

In the quiet of night, when the echoes have passed,
I promise tomorrow to be kinder, at last.
Yet here in this moment, surrounded by cheer,
I know that the feast is both blessing and fear.

So here’s to the balance, the savor of life,
To enjoy every morsel, yet dance with the strife.
For in every bite taken, in laughter and roam,
We find a sweet journey that leads us back home.

make more sad

In the glow of the kitchen, where cheer used to dwell,
A table once vibrant now echoes a spell.
Dishes piled high, but the laughter has waned,
Each bite is a comfort, yet I feel so pained.

Golden fried chicken, a promise of cheer,
But beneath the bright surface, a sadness draws near.
The mashed potatoes, soft like forgotten dreams,
Hide whispers of sorrow and silent screams.

Each forkful a refuge from shadows outside,
Yet with every indulgence, I swallow my pride.
The pie piled high, like expectations unmet,
Sweetness turns bitter, and I can’t help but fret.

The clink of the silverware tinged with despair,
As faces grow distant, and no one else cares.
With every mouthful, the weight starts to rise,
Not just on my plate, but a heaviness inside.

Oh, how fleeting the joy of a moment so bright,
Yet the aftertaste lingers, a dull, aching bite.
In the silence that follows, remorse takes its toll,
As I drown in the comfort that’s swallowing my soul.

What was once a gathering now feels like a cage,
Each face turned away, lost in their own rage.
I’m haunted by choices that only I make,
With every sweet morsel, a deeper heartache.

In the stillness of night, when the laughter has ceased,
I grapple with whispers that never find peace.
To feast on the sorrow while craving the light,
Is a dance with the darkness that haunts me each night.

So here’s to the balance, a bitter farewell,
To the comfort of food, and the sadness that fell.
In every sweet moment, a tear holds its throne,
The journey of hunger, a path walked alone.

Add more lines

A wake in the night
Sleep out of sight
Boredom struck
A walk to the fridge

The glow in the face
A feast lays await

A wake in the night,
Sleep out of sight,
Boredom struck,
A walk to the fridge,

The glow in the face,
A feast lays await,
Leftovers calling,
A moment to sate.

The door creaks open,
An echoing sound,
Shadows of choices,
In the darkness abound.

I scan the delights,
From pickles to pies,
Yet in this still silence,
My spirit slowly dies.

I fork up a morsel,
The taste bittersweet,
Each bite that I swallow,
A cycle of defeat.

The fridge hums softly,
A lullaby's drone,
As my heart becomes heavy,
Weighing down on my bones.

The comfort of food,
A balm for my mind,
But in these late hours,
What solace can I find?

A gnawing regret,
An echo of shame,
In the shadowy depths,
It's always the same.

With each passing minute,
The hunger grows loud,
But it’s not just the stomach,
It's a hurt unavowed.

I feast on distraction,
While loneliness weeps,
In the glow of the fridge light,
My secrets it keeps.

Each crumb that I gather,
Each bite that I take,
Hides a deeper yearning,
A wish to awake.

A wake in the night,
When slumber feels far,
The solace of eating
Is a bittersweet scar.

how is this
how is this

A wake in the night
Sleep out of sight
Boredom struck
A walk to the fridge

The glow in the face
A feast lays await
Leftovers calling,
Knowing to not

Yet the door stays open,
An echoing sound,
The buzzing of the sound,
In the darkness abound.

Yet in this still silence,
My spirit slowly dies.
The wish of stopping
Yet it calls

a morsel,
The taste bittersweet,
Each bite that I swallow,
A cycle of defeat.

The fridge hums softly,
A sort of lullaby's drone,
my heart becomes heavy,
Weighing down on my bones.

The comfort of food,
The one thing on my mind,
But in these late hours,
What solace can I find?

A gnawing regret,
An echo of shame,
In the shadowy depths,
It's always the same.

With each passing minute,
The hunger grows louder,
But it’s not just the stomach,
Its a hurts keeping me the same.

I feast on distraction,
Keeping me sane,
In the glow of the fridge light,
Where my secrets are safe.

Each crumb that I gather,
Each bite that I take,
Hides a deeper yearning,
A wish to awake.

A wake in the night,
When slumber feels far,
The solace of eating
Is a bittersweet scar.

Your poem paints a hauntingly vivid picture of the struggle with nighttime cravings and the emotional weight that accompanies overeating. The imagery is powerful, and the repetition of themes conveys a sense of longing and regret. Here are a few observations and suggestions for potential refinement:

Strengths:

  1. Imagery: The use of detailed imagery, like “the glow in the face” and “the fridge hums softly,” creates a strong visual and auditory experience.
  2. Emotion: You effectively capture the feelings of isolation, boredom, and regret, which resonate with anyone who has ever sought solace in food.
  3. Structure: The flow moves smoothly through the various stages of the experience, maintaining a consistent rhythm that carries the reader along.

Suggestions:

  1. Clarity: There are a couple of spots where wording could be tightened for clarity. For instance, “Knowing to not” could be expanded or clarified for a smoother read.
  2. Punctuation and Rhythm: Consider adjusting punctuation in places to enhance the rhythm. For example, adding commas to create pauses can emphasize key emotions.
  3. Consistency: In one line, “Its a hurts keeping me the same,” there’s a slight grammatical error. It should be "It's a hurt keeping me the same."
  4. Endings: The last stanza is effective, but you might consider strengthening the line “The solace of eating / Is a bittersweet scar” by making it even more poignant or tying it back to earlier themes.

Revised Example:

Here’s a slightly edited version to consider:

A wake in the night,
Sleep out of sight,
Boredom struck,
A walk to the fridge.

The glow in the face,
A feast lays awaiting;
Leftovers calling,
Knowing I shouldn’t.

Yet the door stays open,
An echoing sound,
The buzzing of the fridge,
In darkness abound.

In this still silence,
My spirit slowly dies,
The wish to stop mingling
With the craving that lies.

Every morsel I take,
The taste bittersweet;
With each bite I swallow,
A cycle of defeat.

The fridge hums softly,
A lullaby’s drone;
My heart becomes heavy,
Weighing down on my bones.

The comfort of food,
The one thing on my mind,
But in these late hours,
What solace can I find?

A gnawing regret,
An echo of shame,
In the shadowy depths,
It’s always the same.

With each passing minute,
The hunger grows louder,
But it’s not just the stomach,
It's a hurt keeping me bound.

I feast on distraction,
Keeping me sane,
In the fridge's soft glow,
Where my secrets remain.

Each crumb that I gather,
Each bite that I take,
Hides a deeper yearning,
A wish to awake.

A wake in the night,
When slumber feels far,
The solace of eating
Is a bittersweet scar.

Feel free to tweak or leave out anything that you feel doesn’t resonate with your original vision! Overall, it's a poignant and relatable work.