LITERATURE

Navigating Guilt and Isolation in Poetry

/ Nancy Ann Creed / 1 Comment
Young man sitting on ground in dark urban alley with head resting on arms

Navigating Guilt and Isolation in Poetry

I should not take the blame
Two steps forward, ten steps back,
No matter the path, the light is black.
I try, I try, with all my might,
But shadows follow in the night.

Do not misplace the scars you bear,
Or cast your judgments, sharp and bare,
Upon a soul that’s not to blame,
For all the hurt, for all the shame.


With silent walls and seeds of doubt.
You bring the feast but leave me cold,
A story left largely untold.

“Don’t speak,” you say, “Don’t let me in,”
As if my presence is a sin.
You say I shouldn’t be involved,
The mystery of me—never solved.

An afterthought, drifting alone,
The furthest distance I have known.
The tears fall soft, the heart beats slow,
Caught in a wind I did not blow.

You hate me—the echo rings so clear,
A constant hum for all to hear.
You hate me, hate me, in the dark,
Leaving behind this jagged mark.

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The Weight of Unshared Burdens

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The Weight of Unshared Burdens

I’m carrying a secret,
One I can’t share.
If I told anyone,
They’d be filled with despair.

It locks away my thoughts,
And shadows all my days.
A silent storm inside,
Lost in a winding maze.

I’m afraid of what they’ll think,
Of how they’ll react.
I don’t want to hurt them,
So I’ll keep this to myself.

The truth could shatter bonds,
And break the fragile trust.
So I will wear this mask,
Because I know I must.

I’m carrying this burden,
All alone.
It’s heavy and it’s painful,
But I know I can’t let it go.

No shoulder to lean on,
No hand to guide my way.
I walk this lonely road,
Further into the gray.

I need to find a way to deal with this,
To find a way to cope.
I can’t keep living like this,
With this secret weighing me down.

I search for just a spark,
To clear this heavy air.
To find some inner peace,
And ease this dark despair.

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The Space They Left

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The Space They Left

I saved a seat for you so long,
I learned to love the empty space,
And hummed the verses of a song
That time and silence would erase.

You used to be a steady light,
Or so my foolish eyes believed.
But looking back in clearer sight,
I see how deeply I was grieved.

For friendship isn’t hide-and-seek,
Where I am always left to find
A minutes’ scrap within your week,
A fleeting afterthought of mind.

“Too busy,” was the familiar refrain,
A shield you wore to keep at bay
The text, the call, the quiet pain
Of watching bonds just drift away.

So let it be. No anger here.
No bitter words to stain the past.
The view ahead is sharp and clear,
And freedom has arrived at last.

I close the door without a slam,
And walk into a warmer dawn.
I’m remembering just who I am—
I’m letting go, and moving on.

The Haunting Obsession

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The Haunting Obsession


It occupies my vision,
A phantom on the breeze,
The only sound I hear,
A lingering disease.

It hollows out my thoughts
And commands the quiet night;
I cannot sleep or eat,
Obliterating light.

I’m obsessed and possessed,
A willing, broken prize,
I harbor the infection
Behind my staring eyes.

It suffocates the air,
A heavy, rising tide.
I’m losing who I am
With nowhere left to hide.

I scream for an escape,
A way to break the spell,
But I am just a ghost
Inhabiting this hell.




Ode to the Soldier

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Ode to the Soldier

Across the sea, a jungle green,
A young man fought, a sight unseen.
My father, there, in Vietnam’s hold,
A story etched, a heart of gold.

The weight of war, a heavy pack,
He carried burdens on his back.
The sounds of fire, the cries of pain,
Aching memories, etched like rain.

But courage bloomed where shadows fell,
He faced his fears and fought them well.
For comrades’ sake, for duty’s call,
He stood his ground, he gave his all.

And when he came back home at last,
The war’s grim toll, a shadowed past.
Unspoken battles, burdens deep,
Yet in his eyes, a love to keep.

He built a life, a world anew,
The strength he bore, shone clear and true.
My father, soldier, quiet, strong,
In him, I see where I belong.

This ode to him, a whispered pride,
For all he faced, for all he tried.
A son’s respect, a heart’s embrace,
For the hero’s journey, etched on his face.

The Cost of Keeping Peace

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The lines were drawn in quiet ink,
A map of “yes” and “stay,”
I feared the bridge would surely sink
If I turned the other way.
I held my breath to keep the peace,
A ghost within the room,
Fearing that my own release
Would seal a friendship’s doom.

I thought the cost of being me
Was more than they would pay,
That if I spoke, they’d turn and flee
And leave me in the gray.
But then the weight began to gall,
The “jokes” that left a sting,
The way they made me feel so small
While I gave everything.

So I stood up, a sudden flame,
And watched the masks descend,
I finally spoke my truth, my name,
And waited for the end.
They met my strength with cold disdain,
With anger and with slight,
They saw my joy as their own pain
And walked into the night.

And in the silence left behind,
The truth began to bloom:
The friends I was so scared to find
Were never in that room.
For if a boundary breaks a bond,
The bond was but a thread;
Of people who are truly fond,
There’s nothing left to dread.

If standing up meant losing them,
I lost a heavy chain,
A false and hollow stratagem
That only offered pain.
The ones who leave when you grow tall
Were never yours to keep;
It’s better that the shadows fall
So you can finally leap.

More works by Nancy Ann Creed

MAEVE https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd
MATTHEW https://books2read.com/u/bzNZYj
JUSTIN https://books2read.com/u/mBKzLZ
MAURELLE https://books2read.com/u/bzN19D
ANNBELLE https://books2read.com/u/bWqEkx
Carillon https://books2read.com/u/38anZV


Sponges and the Soul

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Sponges and the Soul

Some people are like sponges.
They soak up whatever is around them,
And then pour it out on others.

When they are with good people,
They absorb your goodness,
And then pour it out on others.

When they are around toxic people,
They become like them,
And then pour it out on others.

Don’t be a sponge.
Know who you are.
Beware of sponges and always be the good person
So the sponges can soak up your goodness.

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

The Fearless Flight

/ Nancy Ann Creed / 2 Comments
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The silent prisons of our own mind,
Worry for the deeds we left behind,
The chances lost, the paths we feared to roam,
Our potential dormant, never brought home.
This anchor heavy, second-guessing’s sting,
Drags down the soul that was meant to sing.

To truly live, regret must be outrun,
A risk embraced beneath the morning sun.
The unknown holds the promise of our growth,
A fertile ground for a pledged oath.

Take the chance at greatness, a choice for all,
Be willing to reach, to answer the call.
See what reserves within your spirit lie,
Of strength and grace beneath the open sky.
Commit to the dream, take the fearless flight,
Forward with conviction, leaving behind the night.

Hesitation is the foe of every deed,
By fearing failure, planting doubt’s cold seed.
You’ll never know the heights you could attain,
The monuments you’d build through sun and rain.
The touch of courage, how it might inspire,
A beacon lit by your own brave fire.

Embrace the call: Take the chance once more,
See what you can do without a shore.
Take the challenge, soar upon the breeze,
Let past regrets dissolve with newfound ease.
Don’t look behind; the future lies ahead,
Just keep the onward path and be well-led.

Belief and grit define the way we go,
The goals you set, the success you will know.
Though failure whispers—part of learning’s art—
Do not let that dark shadow break your heart.
The glorious chance of victory is near,
For this bright hope, dispel all doubt and fear.

Stop postponing the life you wish to lead,
Write the unheard book, plant the needed seed.
Learn the unlearned dance, let rhythm take hold,
Sing out your heart, a story to unfold.
Let nothing hold you back—no fear, no scorn,
The time for your own greatness is this morn.

More Works by Nancy Ann Creed

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

The Weary Crown of Morning

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The jarring, insistent shriek,
An alarm clock’s metallic cry,
Assaults the fragile morning’s peace,
A painful echo in the sky
Of my dark skull. I groan, a sound
Instantly swallowed by the deep,
Heavy silence all around,
I try to meld back into sleep.

A cruel hand pulls, a rhythmic beat,
From sleep’s warm, velvet, soft embrace,
It snatches me, with sudden heat,
And leaves my heart against my face.
My eyes fly open, dark and blank,
Staring up at the ceiling’s shade,
My body, safe within the bank
Of blankets, a fortress I have made.

But now the cold kiss starts to creep,
A sharp, unwelcome morning chill,
That pricks the skin I cannot keep
Beneath the covers, lying still.
With weariness, I fight the day,
The first act: pull the fabric high,
To hide, to make the light away,
And plunge into a private sky.

No. It can’t possibly be now,
Time is a thief that steals the night,
I want to vanish, somehow,
From all the expectations of the light.
Just lie here, a statue, breathing low,
Letting my mind drift, free and wide,
Back to the quiet dreams I know,
A ghost the sheets completely hide.

This is my refuge, warm and deep,
A sanctuary I’ll not leave,
While outside, light and noises sleep.
I am a vessel that will receive
A torrent of chaotic thought,
The doubt, the list, the sudden spark,
In this brief silence, dearly bought,
Before the world steps from the dark.

But then, the quiet starts to fade,
A deep, weary settling down:
Alas, the rising must be made.
Each day, a loop, a weary crown.
I run a race that has no end,
Against the clock, against demands,
A weight that bends, and still must bend.
I shove the covers with both hands.

The only prize, the only true
Reprieve, is time, unscheduled, pure:
To take a day, a week or two,
With only my children, to be sure.
No emails, bosses, or cruel stress,
Just me and my kids, simple, slow,
Wrapped in the light of quietness.
That is the only finish line I know.

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

The Tapestry of Poison

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The Tapestry of Poison


The tapestry of life has threads of gloom,
Where toxic darkness drains the spirit’s bloom.
Some things in life are toxic, subtly sly,
Environments that stifle, habits that deny
Our health, or institutions built on lies—
The silent poisons that before us rise.

As harmful are the ties that bring us pain,
Some people in life who are toxic, they remain
Emotional vampires, constant critics cold,
Passive aggressors, stories to be told
Of manipulation, thriving on the storm,
Suffocating potential, leaving us worn.

Beyond the things and people we may face,
Some activities are toxic in this space.
The compulsions offering distraction’s grace,
But long-term regret we cannot erase:
The relentless pursuit, the endless scroll,
The cycles that entrap and take their toll.

So why do we still use these things we know?
Is it comfort, fear, or letting inertia grow?
And why do we still talk to these people too?
Is it guilt, obligation, hope that’s often through?
Why on the altar of connection’s name,
Do we sacrifice our peace to feed their flame?

If the outcome’s negative, why do we stay?
Why do we still do these activities every day?
The self-sabotage, the deeply set-in need,
Why do we torment ourselves by doing the same things repeatedly indeed?
A closed, agonizing loop of self-inflicted harm,
Where inertia holds us in its harmful arm.

But the moment of reckoning demands its due,
A crystallizing truth, unflinching, strong, and new:
Enough! I am done! a line across the sand,
The absolute refusal, a sovereign command.
To the source of the poison, the message is clear,
Take your toxicity and your self-righteous attitude and leave me here.

Leave me be, so I can move on and find my peace,
Grant me the space for wounds to heal and cease.
Leave me be and stop pretending you ever cared,
The charade of concern, its hollow core laid bare.
Leave me be and let me live my life as it should be,
Unburdened by your shadow, finally free.

My future is my own, not for your design,
Leave me be and stop pretending that you ever cared is the final sign.
Severing the chains of a love that was a lie,
Walking into freedom beneath a clear, blue sky.

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd