best of art journal: october glory

October has been a month of progress, of words, of rhymes, of poetry. It's a poetic month itself, in fact. I spent hours roaming outside, collecting leaves that turned as gloomy as the weather yet their withered bodies still looked glorious. And I picked them up.

I am going to accept the fact that being punctual is probably not my thing, not at the moment at least. With that said, letttttt me present you my October's best entries of my art journal. We might be like 9 days in November but October entries deserves their luvvvv so, with all the guilty glowing off my skin, here we go:
If I could describe this month and art created this month in one word, it would be attachment.

'if you feel shattered,
pick up your pieces and rise up again,
for the all the ruins were once beautiful buildings,
who turned into wonders when they resisted the pain'

7 wonders of the world used to be my favorite thing to read about as a kid. I know their history more than I know about history from my textbooks. Those wonders endured a lot. They endured time and people and people of time. Yet, they are still standing strong. A little damaged but strong. It reminds me of some people too. They've been through a lot yet still stand strong like those wonders. I wrote this poem to pen down this euphoria people and those places gave me

'winds from my city,
tell me about its sky,
that when i left it last time,
the clouds felt sad but they just couldn't cry'

If I could write about every single thing that exists, belongs, or comes from my city, I would. It's another poem for a city that somehow, perhaps a little, is mine.

'the world isn't a serious place,
as it might have seemed someday
it starts every day for so many people,
and ends for a lot; in the very same way'

this poem is actually a sigh of relief. I feel too relieved these days. The world doesn't make sense to me anymore. Perhaps it's because there's just too much sense in there. I would be happy to take it as non-seriously as I could. For it has been pretty important to me in the past, well I am definitely over.

' I saw a fire burning, 
when people talked about their dreams,
that would either light their souls up,
or burn them to the highest extremes'

It's interesting to see when people talk about their dreams. You could almost see those dreams coming alive in their eyes, in their voice. Though it's the after-talk actions that determine whether they'd ever get accomplished or not. But that moment and that fire of their words, it's a sight.

I could also try to be a person of time.
One day
Oh and it's not poetry.

// to see my daily journaling, poetry, and other ~artsy~ stuff, follow me on Instagram

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