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About Literature / Professional Joseph L.M. SturmMale/United States Groups :iconguildofwriters: GuildofWriters
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I fell for You by Mattiello I fell for You :iconmattiello:Mattiello 1 0 Vines by Mattiello Vines :iconmattiello:Mattiello 0 0
Literature
Marbles
I once had a marble, and the marble was made of glass. I could do anything with that marble. I rolled it and listened to its sound as it careened across the floor and clinked into the wall. I could feel it in one hand and between my fingers. It was smooth, small, and unique because it was its own.
I saw it glisten in the eyes of a curious sun. It was warm, and it was like the eyes of a cat ever peering too long into the light. Both curious to see what the other meant to see.
One day, though, I came across a few other marbles, and each one was different. Instead of the usual green, there were blues, yellows, and reds.
When I held them in my hand all the different colors were becoming other colors, and each one was no longer one.  It was now lumpy, and I tried to hold them all in one hand and between my fingers.  They balanced precariously and threatened to escape, and they refused to emaciate themselves of each other. Otherwise, they knew that the sun would not be as curious a
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Literature
Say What You Mean
It's simplistic. That's what I think it always should be. There should never be any talk of snowflakes falling into your eyes creating tears that are just fake. There shouldn't be anything like diarrhea of the mouth, because shit doesn't taste good, and people don't like to eat it either.
Say what you mean to say by buttering your bread with actual butter. If I wanted to infuse calcium or vitamins into my butter, then I would just walk outside to feel the sun on my face or drink a glass of milk.
Say what you mean to say by using your head. If I wanted to scream at you or punch a wall or knock somebody out or cheat on you to get back at you or smack you or something else, then I would probably just get a spoon from the drawer, dig my heart out of my chest like I would a bowl of chocolate ice cream, and hand you the entire thing and say bon appétit.
Say what you mean to say by waving your hands as a composer weaves golden notes into the air, or like those Italian Americans who speak
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Counting Clouds: No beginning (Cover) by Mattiello Counting Clouds: No beginning (Cover) :iconmattiello:Mattiello 0 0 Supernova Girl by Mattiello Supernova Girl :iconmattiello:Mattiello 1 0 A Hat for the Pope by Mattiello A Hat for the Pope :iconmattiello:Mattiello 0 0 Raindrops from Within by Mattiello Raindrops from Within :iconmattiello:Mattiello 1 0 Closure by Mattiello Closure :iconmattiello:Mattiello 0 0 Wind by Mattiello Wind :iconmattiello:Mattiello 0 0 Every Sigh by Mattiello Every Sigh :iconmattiello:Mattiello 1 0 dA app meme by Mattiello dA app meme :iconmattiello:Mattiello 2 0 I am Icarus by Mattiello I am Icarus :iconmattiello:Mattiello 1 0 Blood moon by Mattiello Blood moon :iconmattiello:Mattiello 0 0
Literature
Billy Bean and the Snapping Backpack
    Joseph L.M. Sturm
     
    Billy Bean and the Snapping Backpack
    Good Night Billy
    Billy Bean was a lot like a jumping bean. He ran everywhere, and when he couldn’t run, his feet were still jumping. He loved his cat, Whiskers, the galaxy of stars in his room, the pile of dirty clothes he used as a landing zone, and – above all – he loved his backpack. It held anything and everything. Billy Bean had everything in his blue backpack: textbooks, notebooks, pens, pencils, folders, a blue and white lunchbox, and his emergency phone that even had some really cool apps on it. Billy Bean’s backpack was very full when he went to school but never before that.
    “Billy!” yelled his mom in frustration while standing in the middle of his room, “I’ve told you all day to get your backpack ready for school
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Literature
Devious people
Devious woman
And like-so man friend mirrors
Everything but parts.
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Critiques


You're first paragraph is a wonderful lead-in or introduction to the first Haiku stanza. I didn't find many problems with this piece, b...

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I once had a marble, and the marble was made of glass. I could do anything with that marble. I rolled it and listened to its sound as it careened across the floor and clinked into the wall. I could feel it in one hand and between my fingers. It was smooth, small, and unique because it was its own.

I saw it glisten in the eyes of a curious sun. It was warm, and it was like the eyes of a cat ever peering too long into the light. Both curious to see what the other meant to see.

One day, though, I came across a few other marbles, and each one was different. Instead of the usual green, there were blues, yellows, and reds.

When I held them in my hand all the different colors were becoming other colors, and each one was no longer one.  It was now lumpy, and I tried to hold them all in one hand and between my fingers.  They balanced precariously and threatened to escape, and they refused to emaciate themselves of each other. Otherwise, they knew that the sun would not be as curious and that the color of the collective would shift into something else. They feared change.

I rolled them across the floor, and they went in many directions. They clinked, clunked, clanked as they rolled into each other, into the wall, and into the grate of the air vent. Breathing is not their thing, so I wondered why they wanted air. Walls and each other were more their thing, so that made sense.

There was no way to determine where they would end up, and I never counted them.

Sometimes, I wonder where the lost ones are. I rolled their luck, and now they can't share colors. Luckily, they will last longer in their liberation. Ultimately, they will undergo unification of their own world where color doesn't matter.  They won’t run into walls anymore.  They won’t try to breath.

The sun cannot refract. Their eyes cannot see. They cannot clink, clank, nor clunk, so they cannot hear. They have been Keller-fide – a bonafide nothing.
103 deviations

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Mattiello
Joseph L.M. Sturm
Artist | Professional | Literature
United States
Who am I?

:bulletblue: Every link I've given to you describes me.
:bulletblue:I am a writer and author of poetry and prose
:bulletblue:I love to teach!
:bulletblue: Fairness is Equality. I'm opinionated but exceptionally reasonable
:bulletblue:I will welcome links to deviations that need critiqued. I ask only that you review your submission before you ask me to critique it. I don't critique rough drafts.
:bulletblue: Forever young

Below are some tutorials I have written
:bulletred: Flashbulb Poetry: How to Write
:bulletred: Colons, Semicolons, and Hyphens
:bulletred: Apostrophes: Two commandments
:bulletred: How to Write Villanelles.
:bulletred: How to Create Visual Poetry
:bulletred: The Acrostic Haiku.

I no longer run clubs. I'm just a community dude.

Seriously. Remember one thing: never revel in ignorance.
Interests

New and Moderately Kool

Journal Entry: Thu May 1, 2014, 2:49 PM



Quick Update  

I've been more than crazy busy.  I teach eight classes at a placement facility and am finishing up my Secondary Ed Cert as an Intern.  So much more to that, but there really isn't any point in actually boring any of you fine people.  

Important Stuff

I've finally finished one of my children's book.  You'll see that it's more of a early chapter book than anything else, but it is meant to have pictures.  I'm hoping that an agent will eventually like the story enough to take it on, so enjoy it for now.  If you have any kids, test this on them an let me know your thoughts!  I'm sure it won't scar them all that much. :D  And if you are still a kid at heart, then let me know all the same!   

Billy Bean and the Snapping Backpack    Joseph L.M. Sturm
     
    Billy Bean and the Snapping Backpack
    Good Night Billy
    Billy Bean was a lot like a jumping bean. He ran everywhere, and when he couldn’t run, his feet were still jumping. He loved his cat, Whiskers, the galaxy of stars in his room, the pile of dirty clothes he used as a landing zone, and – above all – he loved his backpack. It held anything and everything. Billy Bean had everything in his blue backpack: textbooks, notebooks, pens, pencils, folders, a blue and white lunchbox, and his emergency phone that even had some really cool apps on it. Billy Bean’s backpack was very full when he went to school but never before that.
    “Billy!” yelled his mom in frustration while standing in the middle of his room, “I’ve told you all day to get your backpack ready for school



CSS Created by edmunn and alfajr
and edited by PoetryOD for Mattiello
  • Listening to: my thoughts
  • Reading: this journal
  • Watching: nothing
  • Playing: nothing yet
  • Eating: your thoughts
  • Drinking: nothing, but I'm thirsty.

Comments


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:icondes-laids-des-laids:
Des-Laids-Des-Laids Featured By Owner Oct 5, 2015   General Artist
Thanks for the fav! :)
Reply
:iconshihsntz:
ShihSnTz Featured By Owner Oct 1, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the fa! :) It is greatly appreciated.
Reply
:iconmattiello:
Mattiello Featured By Owner Oct 2, 2015  Professional Writer
You're quite welcome!
Reply
:iconhugqueen:
HugQueen Featured By Owner Nov 29, 2014   Writer
Thank you very, very much for the favorite. :rose:
Reply
:iconmattiello:
Mattiello Featured By Owner Nov 30, 2014  Professional Writer
Rather welcome. :D
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:iconhugqueen:
HugQueen Featured By Owner Dec 3, 2014   Writer
:huggle:
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:iconanalillithbar:
analillithbar Featured By Owner Oct 18, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
:iconthankyoujump::iconthankyoujump1::iconthankyoujump2: :iconfavouriteplz:
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:iconthesekrimzonflames:
TheseKrimzonFlames Featured By Owner May 16, 2014  Professional Writer
Happy birthday, you two-bit hooker. :B
Reply
:iconmattiello:
Mattiello Featured By Owner May 22, 2014  Professional Writer
Hey now. I'm worth at least 3 bits, you know.  Geesh. :facepalm:  

Anyway, thanks! lol
Reply
:iconthesekrimzonflames:
TheseKrimzonFlames Featured By Owner May 22, 2014  Professional Writer
Nope, word is 2. :B
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