18 Ways to Overcome Boredom While Writing: A Guide for the Bored Writers

Boredom is a reality that writers often have to face. It can be a writing gig that is taking too long or perhaps it is that story that you thought about for a long while but now you are at loggerheads with yourself in the middle of it.

Streetwriters

A community of artists working together to grow, nurture and help build a better and artistic world where greatness is a measure independent of one's race, status, ethnicity, color or creed.

Dear Young Poet: A Poem

On the eve of the Election Day - Nov 2, 2020 - I wrote my first poem and opened this Instagram account. Not only did I admire the work I read but many of these pieces were written by young poets I wanted to uplift and inspire. I’m grateful every single day for all the lessons that brought me to today. I’m not sure I’d be as grateful had the journey been a simple one. Thank you Streetwriters for all you do in our community. We love you!

Alina de Albergaria

I am a California girl who loves the land beneath my feet. I am also a happily married mother of three and permanent resident of life’s gray area, always finding the need to unfurl a new shade.

The Decline of Poetry & How Our Expression Is Dying

There was a time when poetry played a central role in our culture and civilization but today it has been pushed backstage. It occupies an obscure corner in our society - one knows the foremost poets of today. The classics still have their audience, their aura of mystery and attraction but poetry as a living mode of expression for our cultural experience has died.

Streetwriters

A community of artists working together to grow, nurture and help build a better and artistic world where greatness is a measure independent of one's race, status, ethnicity, color or creed.

Five Ways to Deal with Writer's Block

I always hear people say they have 'writer's block'. I have been writing poetry consistently for almost four years now and I can't say I've ever experienced it. Not in the way that other people have, or mean when they say it, anyway. Do I have periods of time where I write less? Sure! But I don't label it or complain about it, in my head or to anyone else.

The Decline of Poetry & How Our Expression Is Dying

There was a time when poetry played a central role in our culture and civilization but today it has been pushed backstage. It occupies an obscure corner in our society - one knows the foremost poets of today. The classics still have their audience, their aura of mystery and attraction but poetry as a living mode of expression for our cultural experience has died.

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Thoughts! What are you, O thoughts!

Thoughts. What are you, O thoughts? The beginnings and endings. The journeys and destinations. The highs and lows. The transcendence of pleasures and pain's mighty blows. Are you these or are you more? What depths hide your origins? What drives you to death on abandoned shores?

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The creation of the Adam fresco painting on the Sistine Chapel.

Is There More to Art than Meets the Eye?

When we look at a piece of art, a poem or a book, different feelings flow into our hearts such love, reverence, awe, irritation, disgust, or outright hatred. What causes these feelings are myriads of meanings, memories, associations, and similar things that we experience in our lives. They give art its meaning by adding to its depth.

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A world globe representing the Contempla of the Princess of Aanunja

Chapter 3: A Call of the Forest

"He was on a dear hunt in a grove near the forest. He caught sight of a beautiful doe with her child. The doe strangely left the grove and began running towards the forest. The King pursued it with his retainers behind him. The doe was fast — too fast."

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Chapter 2: A Call of the Forest

The goon on the left held a sword. He swung it at Ghal. Ghal swiftly sidestepped and hit him in the arm with full force. The man cried and let go of the blade. Ghal was deft enough to catch it and chop off the offender's head. In a split second, he had it thrust into the stomach of the last attacker.

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