Photo by Jeswin Thomas on Pexels.com The Quiet Outside The empty space of connection, the gathering,Pulses with a vibrant energy I only observe.It hums with plans already made,A detailed itinerary, a map of places where I do not go.My position is fixed: outside. I don't move;I only watch the colors of the evening fadeFrom my window, a slow drain of warmth and light.

Two years ago, the entire leadership team from my school embarked on a profoundly transformative professional development expedition to Atlanta, Georgia. The core objective of this significant journey was to visit and conduct intensive, first-hand observation of The Ron Clark Academy (RCA), a globally recognized non-profit middle school renowned for its innovative and dynamic teaching methodologies, its high student engagement, and its distinctly unique, vibrant school culture.

The world changed overnight… 🧟‍♀️ Are you ready for the fight for survival? Dive into "Zombie: The Survivors" by Nancy Ann Creed and see who makes it out alive. Tap the link in bio to grab your copy! What's the first thing you'd grab in a zombie apocalypse? More Works by Nancy Ann Creed

The Curtain's Cost I am utterly exhausted by this relentless play,The heavy curtain of performance drawn too long.I cannot hold the hollow smile another day,To mask the deep, the aching emptiness that's wrong. The burden of a self that isn't mine to wear,To fit the mold you fashioned, cruel and tight,An agonizing stretch away from who I care…

Photo by RDNE Stock project on Pexels.com The Serendipitous Message A flicker in the digital sea,A ripple in the ocean vast,Announced a message, unanticipated, free,A bridge to years and moments past.No expectation, no alarm,A serendipitous, sudden light,A warmth against the day's long harm,Dispelling shadows of the night. The sender’s name, a long-lost friend,

Photo by Filipe Delgado on Pexels.com 📝 The Echo in the Well We walked the same path, pen in hand,Mind alight, a shared commitment's sign.Pilgrims in a lonely, distant land,Chasing the same bright star, divine.Our bond, once firm, was forged by toil,Ink-smudged paper, the screen's harsh glow,A hopeful process on a hungry soil,A private weight the outside doesn't know.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com I wrote this about 12 years ago but it still rings true. For a month now, a deep, persistent fire has been burning in my gut. It's more than just an uneasy feeling; it's a profound, urgent need to share my story, particularly as a cautionary tale for other women. Yet, this internal wrestling match with my own complex emotions—fear, relief, anxiety—has held the words captive.

Photo by Pouria Teymouri on Pexels.com The Unwritten Lessons of Connection I lost the ones I thought would beAn immutable part of my life's tapestry,Woven forever. Their sudden fraying leftA hollow space, of laughter now bereft.A loss not just of presence, but of promised time,Of futures guaranteed, of permanence sublime. I lost the endless, open channel's flow,

Photo by Mike González on Pexels.com The Echo of Regret: A Vow Against Futility The shadow falls, a failure in my sight,Disappointment's echo, haunting day and night.Regret's cold hand upon my waking thought,A hollow dream, the battle that we fought. A profound, persistent ache resides within,A deep, visceral wound where grief begins.Each time the news arrives, a soul has gone,

Photo by Jonathan Borba on Pexels.com 👶 C-Section or VBAC: A Personal DilemmaBefore the birth of my second child, Van, who is now fourteen, I wrote this reflection. My thoughts were consumed by the looming decision regarding his delivery, a topic that held particular weight because his older sister, Zelda, had been born via Cesarean section.The experience with Zelda naturally led us to question the safest and best approach for the next delivery.

Photo by Tima Miroshnichenko on Pexels.com Your Prayer Is Bound By Love When darkness falls upon a soul you know,And misconduct is the seed that they sow,When actions pierce the better self you see,And they depart from how they ought to be,A higher call demands your swift response,Beyond the simple bitterness of offense. Specifically, when they project their strife,

Photo by Class Art on Pexels.com Ashes and Dust It was not a solo journey,It was meant for both of us to keep.A path shared, a mutual destiny,A bond where promises run deep.We walked side by side, our footprints one,A single narrative of hope begun. But the story broke, the path was closed,I stood on the chasm's crumbling brim,

Photo by Hebert Santos on Pexels.com The Shattered Image The depth of my disappointment is immense,I truly thought you were a person of integrity,Whose every action would align, with no pretense,With the strong character you seemed to be."I thought you were better" is too mild to say;I saw in you a loyalty I sought to find,

Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com A Silent Farewell I hide myself away, retreating from the world's harsh light,To hide from those I fear, the shadows that invade the night.The whispers and the judging eyes, they pierce me to the core,So I draw the curtains closed, and lock the heavy door.I hide myself away, within this solitary keep,

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com The Unbreakable Covenant We stand together, a multitude wide,Our inherent worth cannot be denied.We are the many, strong and profound,On worthy, undeniable ground. A powerful force, a presence complete,In every life's aspect, we cannot retreat.We are the bedrock, the muse, and the light,The mothers who nurture, the wives who unite.

Photo by Prasanth Inturi on Pexels.com 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.

Photo by Robert So on Pexels.com 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.

Photo by Laura Stanley on Pexels.com The 50-Clap Strategy: A Poet's Blueprint for Community and Growth on MediumAs an indie writer and poet, success on Medium isn't just about crafting beautiful verse; it's about mastering the art of the ecosystem. For creators working outside of major publications, engagement is the lifeblood, and the 50-clap strategy, combined with genuine community reading, is a powerful tool to foster that engagement.

The Wall Within A hundred hands may wave hello,My circle stretches far and wide,A glittering, expanding galaxy of faces.I wear the badge of social glow,A persona polished by years of practice,With nowhere left for me to hide. From all the laughter, chatter, speed—The ceaseless, humming frequencyOf a busy, pleasant, surface life.I move through it with practiced ease,

Photo by Nicole Michalou on Pexels.com The year turns slow, a measured, quiet grace,The final, faded green surrenders place.The frost begins to cling, a crystal sheen,Upon the windowpane, a painted scene.And through the air, a certain sweet note rings,The hushed anticipation that it brings.The scent of pine, a memory held dear,The flicker of the flame that conquers fear.

This is a request from the bottom of my heart. I put a piece of their soul into this book, dreaming of the day it would find its readers. I'm asking you, begging you... please be one of my readers. If you've ever wanted to support an author's dream, if you've ever wanted to get in on the ground floor of a new series you can fall in love with, please give The Shadow Realm Chronicles: Maeve a chance. This is how dreams live or die. Please. Read it. Fall in love. More Works by Nancy Ann Creed

🩸🧚‍♀️ New Read Alert! Dive into "The Shadow Realm Chronicles: Maeve" by Nancy Ann Creed! If you're looking for a dark, compelling story about love, betrayal, and the fight for your soul, this book is for you. Meet Maeve, once a loving mother and fairy , whose life is shattered when she is turned into a vampire by Marius. The story follows her journey from desperate mother to a formidable figure entangled in the plots of the rulers of the realms.

Photo by Mariya on Pexels.com The Tie Is Severed I lost a friend today,A simple, heavy lineThat should descend like sorrow's shroud,A grief for what was mine.I waited for the cutting edge,The sting of sudden pain,But found instead a strange relief,No shadow of a chain. I should be sad, should mourn the end,

Photo by Evgeniya Koniukhova on Pexels.com 📝 The Quiet CountThe words escape them, fleeting, quick and slight,A casual "friend," a breath upon the air.A convenient emblem, shining in the light,But utterly vacant when true burdens bear. The sun-drenched moments made the title easy,A fashionable accessory for all to don,But in the silence, when the world grew hazy,