Nancy Ann Creed

  Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com They claim the name of "friend," a title bright, Yet stand as distant as the stars' cold light. Their voices, once a vibrant, clear refrain, Now reach the ear as faint, distorted pain, Lost, perhaps, in some far, forgotten bar. They speak of history, of shared delight, A woven tapestry of days gone by, But in this stark and unforgiving now, Only their deep, loud silence makes a vow— A painful echo, truer than their word. A Hollow Bond What lingers is a hollow, empty shell, A bond without true grace or truth to tell. A fleeting shadow, swift to disappear, Leaving no trace upon the heart held dear. How dare they wear that loyal title still, When constant absence proves against their will A bond untrue, a pretense built on air? Friendship's true essence is betrayed by care And presence that they utterly withhold, A story of detachment, stark and cold. Unkept Promises and Letting Go This fragile friendship rose on broken ground, Of ...

  Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com The Unspoken Question of Worth Am I a difficult person to be friends with? The question echoes in the lonely silence, A heavy query, weighted by repeated pain. I dissect each word, each passing glance, Seeking the flaw so visible to others' eyes, Yet stubbornly opaque, a shadow on my own stain. Am I too awkward, my presence a strain? Does nervousness stilt the practiced conversation? I rehearse the words, the balance I must find, To hold the moment, a calculated equation. But the words tumble out, a chaotic, hurried rush, Leaving the perfect moment behind. Am I too anxious, a constant, worrying hum? A fear of saying too much, of taking up space, Of simply being a burden, too large, too loud. This anxiety, palpable, a barrier I can't erase, A repellent field that pushes people away, Before a true connection is allowed. Do I forget to hold my tongue's sharp edge? I value honesty, perhaps too stark and free. I spea...

  Photo by Mariya on Pexels.com The Tie Is Severed I lost a friend today, A simple, heavy line That 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, The history we knew, Yet in my chest a lightness wakes, Defiant, strong, and new. The truth is stark, the choice is clear, I look upon the past: I am not sorry that it broke, I am simply glad at last. The severing was not a hush, But clash of will and word, A necessary, cleansing fire Where my own truth was heard. I stood firm in the tempest's heart, Refused to be denied, And drew a boundary, sharp and deep, With nothing left to hide. The lesson's hard, but vital known: Respect must be the core. A friend should cheer the victory, And lift you from the floor. Your champions, they must remain, To hold your spirit high, But when support becomes res...

This is a request from the bottom of my heart. Somewhere out there, I put a piece of my 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. https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd Photo by Evi T. on Unsplash Kindest reader, as you hurry past, The silent shelves, I pray you pause at last. I kneel a beggar at the gate, you see, Pleading for just one hour of your life from me. Within these pages rests a hollow ache, The very soul I sacrificed for the writing's sake. Don't let my effort vanish, spent in vain; Please lift the cover, try to read the strain. I didn't simply type these words you'll find; I opened up the labyrinth...

 She was a mother. A wife. A fairy. Then a vampire's bite turned her into a monster. Her husband betrayed her. Her town tried to burn her alive. Now, she has returned. She's sealed the town under a dome of darkness, and this time, she won't be the one who burns. THE SHADOW REALM CHRONICLES: MAEVE   https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

  Photo by Abby Kihano on Pexels.com My Light A steady beacon, you appear, When shadows gather and I fear The path ahead is lost and gone In darkness where I walk alone. The sole voice of my reason's plea, The anchor of reality, When the world spins with chaotic strife, You are the breath that restores my life. A silent force, you bring me peace, A quiet, beautiful release. Let tempests rage and gales descend, Let the harsh winds their fury lend. Let towering waves crash on the shore, Threatening to consume all. Yet, armed with our bond's deep might, We will endure, we will unite. Unbroken, we will conquer all, Our spirit standing strong and tall. A lighthouse in the darkest squall, Together, we will never fall. While others scatter sparks of joy, And fill my days without alloy, Their collective light, a vibrant beat, Is not the power to complete. They give my life its rhythm's art, And cause the beating of my heart. But it is you, the vital source, The enduring love, ...

  Photo by fauxels on Pexels.com The Three Lenses: The Influence of Literacy Coaches and Observations  When Literacy Coaches observe teachers, most of the time they use set rubrics to determine what the teacher needs to work on and what they are doing well. “Our analysis of the coaches’ discussion about their ratings on the rubrics led us to identify three lenses- or ways of looking- that influences their observations: the pedagogy lens, the responsiveness lens, and the relevancy lens,” Rodgers & Rodgers, (2007). What do these lenses mean and how do they affect our teaching and our ability to coach?   Each time the Literacy Coach watches a lesson and observes how a teacher teaches; they think about how they would have taught that lesson. “Adrian conceptualized a mechanism called a pedagogical lens to help understand how the same teaching might be viewed and interpreted differently by different people (A. Rogers, 2002),” Rodgers & Rodgers, (2007)....