The Best PIECE of Writing You Have Written So Far

[cacian]

no more then a paragraph and share it here :)
it can be anything from a play to a short story to a poem.
would be nice to read some and then more :D
Post as many paragraphs as you wish.

ok here is one piece I like:

evasion
of the mind
is allusive to a find
the more it wants
to start
and the less it wants to
go
gravity feels at low
moving becomes
a blow
logic is perfect oh
I told you so and so.

[PeterL]

You first.

And the question is: What do you mean by "best"? Or are you looking for whatever any individual thinks best?
In either case, it is up to you to show the way. ;)

[cacian]

You first.

And the question is: What do you men by "best"? Or you you looking for whatever any individual thinks best?
In either case, it is up yo you to show the way.

haha that is not fair. I will see what I can do :D
what I mean is whatever the individual thinks best.

[PeterL]

Here's a paragraph for your reading pleasure. If I think of a better one, then I will delete this and post the other.

She stepped around me as smoothly as a cat and walked toward the bathroom. She was very pleasant to look upon. She was youthful without being girlish, at all. Her face was medium oval in shape, graced with mildly arched eyebrows that framed her eyes, a straight, aristocratic nose, full, sensuous lips, and a smoothly rounded jaw. Her neck and shoulders showed smooth, tanned skin above the T-shirt that covered, but did not hide breasts like grapefruit halves, and her hips neatly filled the T-shirt. As she walked, her hips swayed enticingly. The image of her eyes stayed with me; they were as black as the pits of hell, complete with flecks of red for the flames. If she were as wild as her eyes were, then I was in for an interesting time. I took a deep breath, turned back toward the kitchen, and started to prepare breakfast.

[108 fountains]

What a great idea for a thread! I very much like your poem, especially your choice of the word "allusive" where one would expect the word "elusive." It makes me wonder if you considered the word "illusive."

Anyway, here is mine. It is the climactic paragraph of what will probably be the only novel I will ever write:

Miles shrugged. “I do understand you, and I do believe that at a certain level, you are right. You know, all my life I’ve read and contemplated philosophy, physics, the mind, and the soul. I’ve tried to learn super-string theory and quantum mechanics to see if they can teach me anything about the ultimate Reality. But look at me. I am getting older now, and I am no closer to discovering the ultimate Truth than when I first began that quest a long time ago. Even Einstein said he could never understand it all – the planets spinning through space, the smile upon your face.* And now, I am beginning to think – no, actually, I have become convinced that the secret of life, the ultimate Truth, has been in front of me all along, just waiting for me to open my eyes. And that is where I must disagree with you. I believe that this world is the ultimate Reality. This life is the ultimate Truth. There is enough beauty in this world, enough magic in this life, to justify existence. And taken together, the concrete world and the secrets of the universe yet to be discovered, as well as our imagination, our dreams, and our capacity for joy, compassion, and love are enough to fill eternity.”

* Einstein said he could never understand it all
Planets spinning through space
The smile upon your face…

James Taylor, The Secret o’ Life

[cacian]

Here's a paragraph for your reading pleasure. If I think of a better one, then I will delete this and post the other.

She stepped around me as smoothly as a cat and walked toward the bathroom. She was very pleasant to look upon. She was youthful without being girlish, at all. Her face was medium oval in shape, graced with mildly arched eyebrows that framed her eyes, a straight, aristocratic nose, full, sensuous lips, and a smoothly rounded jaw. Her neck and shoulders showed smooth, tanned skin above the T-shirt that covered, but did not hide breasts like grapefruit halves, and her hips neatly filled the T-shirt. As she walked, her hips swayed enticingly. The image of her eyes stayed with me; they were as black as the pits of hell, complete with flecks of red for the flames. If she were as wild as her eyes were, then I was in for an interesting time. I took a deep breath, turned back toward the kitchen, and started to prepare breakfast.
I enjoyed this Peter. what title does it belong to?
oh and do post as many as you wish. do not delete anything. :)

[cacian]

What a great idea for a thread! I very much like your poem, especially your choice of the word "allusive" where one would expect the word "elusive." It makes me wonder if you considered the word "illusive."

Anyway, here is mine. It is the climactic paragraph of what will probably be the only novel I will ever write:

Miles shrugged. “I do understand you, and I do believe that at a certain level, you are right. You know, all my life I’ve read and contemplated philosophy, physics, the mind, and the soul. I’ve tried to learn super-string theory and quantum mechanics to see if they can teach me anything about the ultimate Reality. But look at me. I am getting older now, and I am no closer to discovering the ultimate Truth than when I first began that quest a long time ago. Even Einstein said he could never understand it all – the planets spinning through space, the smile upon your face.* And now, I am beginning to think – no, actually, I have become convinced that the secret of life, the ultimate Truth, has been in front of me all along, just waiting for me to open my eyes. And that is where I must disagree with you. I believe that this world is the ultimate Reality. This life is the ultimate Truth. There is enough beauty in this world, enough magic in this life, to justify existence. And taken together, the concrete world and the secrets of the universe yet to be discovered, as well as our imagination, our dreams, and our capacity for joy, compassion, and love are enough to fill eternity.”

* Einstein said he could never understand it all
Planets spinning through space
The smile upon your face…

James Taylor, The Secret o’ Life

how interesting quite a speculative piece. why the only novel??
and thank you for the kind comment about the poem :)

[Emil Miller]

I doubt that there are any novelists who are fully satisfied with what they have written, but there are sometimes certain passages that convey exactly what they want to impart to the reader.
This is from my political novel Pro Bono Publico published in 2006:

Roger had finally become Chancellor with the unenviable task of securing the IMF loan, and although he was unable to ameliorate the stringent conditions that horrified his party and the TUC, they were grateful to have obtained a breathing space. The respite lasted for two and a half years as the government vainly tried to meet the loan’s conditions with an incomes policy restricting pay increases to five per cent. Union activists were incensed at having to accept wage restraint at the behest of the IMF and retaliated with industrial anarchy that culminated in the ”Winter of Discontent” and Labour being swept from office on a vote of no confidence. After thirty-four disastrous years, the dream of a New Jerusalem was finally over.
With the arrival of the first woman Prime Minister in British history, the Conservatives at last began to undertake the task they should have begun twenty-eight years earlier and abandoned antiquated economic policies with a ruthlessness necessitated by decades of mismanagement. The subsequent violent industrial action and unemployment were an inevitable consequence of their belated attempt to curtail the disintegrating Welfare State and decaying nationalised industries of the consensus, but the country had finally left 19th century Utopianism behind, and there was no going back.

[mal4mac]

Given the events of 2008 revealing Blatcherite capitalism to be as much a busted flush as "Winter of Discontent" Socialism isn't it time for a sequel? Here's a free passage for starters:

That’s when a whole new lot of troubles began. She drove unemployment above three million and divided the nation with economic policies that led to recession. She flogged off gas, water and electricity to for a pittance. By selling off council houses at far below their market value she fuelled house price inflation. She unleashed rampant greed by deregulating the City, and the current generation of bankers drove the nation to near collapse. Cameron perpetuates her slavish devotion to “markets”, rejecting taxes on bank bonuses and a “Robin Hood” tax to pay for the bankers’ criminal avarice. Today the people of Cornwall and the Welsh Valleys are worse off than Hungarians. This is the legacy of 35 years of Thatcherism.

[PeterL]

I enjoyed this Peter. what title does it belong to?
oh and do post as many as you wish. do not delete anything. :)

That is from a short story "Ekwamedha's Child".

If I do think of another good one, then I will post it.

[Sir Guyon]

It is a tall order to ask for what I consider my best snippet from what I have written. It would definitely have to come from my debut verse drama, A Love Untold. Almost arbitrarily I selected the following:


Cato: Speak ye most true and plain on this matter, Marius
Thou should practice to do so more.
It is only best for the state that we stick with a faction
That will handle the reigns of Rome both firm and free.
A soldier or senator ascending aloft the scene
Being a master both of himself and discretion
Subduing all passions as the stoic
Proving himself the just emperor of his mind
Before presuming to rule another.
But that my friend is a cold fantasy
A man could only seriously consider cloistered
Away from the Roman stage.
Shake thy legs a little and ye shall find
Only knaves have the hunger for ambition
And they do ravenously devour all the Earth
When within their reach, And they do die
Not of surfeit but starvation.
Nevertheless Galba will be prima firmly planted
I doubt it nothing he will be cropped
As an unwanted weed ere long.
Ye have already heard the reports of his rapine
He will prove another Nero, and if not Nero
A scorpion enthroned a substitute to the snake.

[Sir Guyon]

My absolute personal favorite piece is the very end of A Love Untold: A Tragedy:

Cato: There is a consolation in justice
Wrought by the hand Divine
To rectify the sins of man
When with moral outrage
We survey the suffering and the tyranny
That does befall those smaller than the great
In position though not in moral state.
Yet no retribution can ease the wound
Or heal the scars of an evil knife.
Nero has destroyed my wife with my son
Along with many others
That in silence suffer.
The coliseum will crumble
And the lions languish
Long before injustice
Falls forever to the dust.

Finis.

[free]

I think, this is my best:

I don't recognize you in any letter
In no word I can see you
No verse reminds me of my getter
Please, write a poem new

[Emil Miller]

Given the events of 2008 revealing Blatcherite capitalism to be as much a busted flush as "Winter of Discontent" Socialism isn't it time for a sequel? Here's a free passage for starters:

That’s when a whole new lot of troubles began. She drove unemployment above three million and divided the nation with economic policies that led to recession. She flogged off gas, water and electricity to for a pittance. By selling off council houses at far below their market value she fuelled house price inflation. She unleashed rampant greed by deregulating the City, and the current generation of bankers drove the nation to near collapse. Cameron perpetuates her slavish devotion to “markets”, rejecting taxes on bank bonuses and a “Robin Hood” tax to pay for the bankers’ criminal avarice. Today the people of Cornwall and the Welsh Valleys are worse off than Hungarians. This is the legacy of 35 years of Thatcherism.

I have been asked to write a sequel but subsequent events are still relatively fresh in people's minds, whereas the reason for writing Pro Bono Publico was that people were asking how had we got into such a state. I wrote the novel in 2004 and had it published in 2006 before the events of 2008 came to pass. I agree that she carried out the policies you have stated and in this context it is worth re-reading the last sentence in the passage I have chosen. Given that the UK was technically bankrupt by 1976, it was necessary to deregulate the City but the blame for the banking crisis lies with Labour's failure to use the Financial Services Authority to prevent excesses in the banking sector during its 12 years in office. Some control of the banks was vital given that new technology had ushered in the age of globalisation but Gordon Brown did nothing to rein in their behaviour: hence the crash that occurred 18 years after Mrs Thatcher left office.
However, this is only half of the story: the other being that of the characters whose lives are transformed by Britain's post-war decline: something for which all political parties must take responsibility.

[cacian]

brilliant reads.
keep them coming.:)

[cacian]

That is from a short story "Ekwamedha's Child".

If I do think of another good one, then I will post it.

great oh and what an unusual name.:)

[PeterL]

I think, this is my best:

I don't recognize you in any letter
In no word I can see you
No verse reminds me of my getter
Please, write a poem new

I kind of like your poem.

Even from the slightest bit of matter
You can be deduced. No word defines you,
But each and every word includes you.

[PeterL]

great oh and what an unusual name.:)

Ekwamedha is the Proto-Indo-European Goddess of inebriation. The name literally means "horse mead", or kumiss.
http://www.wineintro.com/wineforum/ubbthreads.php/topics/357826/Exotic_Wine_Talk
There a lot about her online.

[cacian]

Ekwamedha is the Proto-Indo-European Goddess of inebriation. The name literally means "horse mead", or kumiss.
http://www.wineintro.com/wineforum/ubbthreads.php/topics/357826/Exotic_Wine_Talk
There a lot about her online.

Peter thanks that is a great read.
the website looks good too. :)

[PeterL]

Peter thanks that is a great read.
the website looks good too. :)

You are more than welcome.
Yes, that site is good, and Lisa Shea, who runs it, is a pleasant and interesting person.

[YesNo]

Breakfast at the Outdoor Cafe

She brings coffee and croissants to eat
While fat pigeons peck food at my feet
Seeking crumbs out of love
I might drop from above
As I search for her smile when we greet.

[Emil Miller]

brilliant reads.
keep them coming.:)

As a result of this thread I have taken to re-reading parts of my first novel after some years and I note that there are
a number of passages that vye for what I would consider the best of my attempts in telling the story.
Throughout the post-war period, industrial and social upheavals were not infrequent as the following passage tries to show:

The crowd had now become a mob, and he felt himself being swept along on an irresistible tide towards the wall of shields held by police armed with riot batons. Ray Parsons and the other union leaders had disappeared into the melee and, except for Jimmy Carew a few yards in front, he was in a sea of unknown faces.
As the demonstrators collided with the riot police, a baton felled the communist shop steward, but he was immediately back on his feet and, with his face covered in blood, he tore into his assailant with a fury that sent the officer crashing to the ground. Suddenly, fists and batons were flying everywhere and a full-scale riot had broken out. Vic had never been so frightened in his life as he took a blow in the face from somebody’s elbow and, stumbling over an abandoned placard, went down with others falling on top of him.
The police found themselves overwhelmed by sheer weight of numbers, and reinforcements began pouring from police vans parked around the square, but before they could shore up their colleague’s crumbling resistance, the mob had broken through, and a series of running battles took place with rioters hurling banners and abuse at parliament as more and more demonstrators fought their way into the area to clash with mounted police trying to break up the crowd already there.

[free]

I kind of like your poem.

Even from the slightest bit of matter
You can be deduced. No word defines you,
But each and every word includes you.


Thanks, PeterL

[Hwo Thumb]

An excerpt from an old poem I dug up. I didn't like my english teacher much. We had to write a bunch of poems, but we never got the chance to write stories. I preferred prose over poetry, so I produced this pesky piece of poetry.

“The Prose Producer’s Problem with Poetry”
I really don’t like poetry
It just isn’t the thing for me
I have no sense of rhythm, tone, or rhyme.

But write a story that’s superb
A narrative I’ve never heard
And I am sure to find your tale sublime.

Oh, poetry is awful.
Poetry just sucks.
Speak about your sonnet and I’ll stuff my ears with socks.

But the teacher says to write this;
She says it will be fun.
Maybe for a poet but I’m sure as hell not one.

The full thing is quite a bit longer, but I liked these stanzas

[Sir Guyon]

An excerpt from an old poem I dug up. I didn't like my english teacher much. We had to write a bunch of poems, but we never got the chance to write stories. I preferred prose over poetry, so I produced this pesky piece of poetry.

“The Prose Producer’s Problem with Poetry”
I really don’t like poetry
It just isn’t the thing for me
I have no sense of rhythm, tone, or rhyme.

But write a story that’s superb
A narrative I’ve never heard
And I am sure to find your tale sublime.

Oh, poetry is awful.
Poetry just sucks.
Speak about your sonnet and I’ll stuff my ears with socks.

But the teacher says to write this;
She says it will be fun.
Maybe for a poet but I’m sure as hell not one.

The full thing is quite a bit longer, but I liked these stanzas

As a poet, I must applaud your clever attempt.

[YesNo]

I liked the last stanza, Hwo Thumb.

I wrote something similar when asked to write a haiku for a competition. It's probably no worse that anything I would consider as my best, so here it goes.


Haiku Drivel, Youku Drivel

1

My teacher insisted a haiku be written.
I sharpened my pencil and let out a scream.
I chewed the eraser. My nails were bitten.
I hoped I could puncture some part of this dream.

But, no, it was real, and she said she would flunk me
If I didn't do it, and do it right then.
I felt like a fool with a sign that said, "Dunk me!"
Who falls in the water, and falls down again.

Then suddenly something occurred. Was it clever?
I proudly displayed it. She freaked with surprise.
She said it was awful, the worst she'd seen ever.
She flunked me with pleasure in spite of my cries.

2

Haiku: Japanese
form that is unworthy of
the English language.

[Sir Guyon]

I liked the last stanza, Hwo Thumb.

I wrote something similar when asked to write a haiku for a competition. It's probably no worse that anything I would consider as my best, so here it goes.


Haiku Drivel, Youku Drivel

1

My teacher insisted a haiku be written.
I sharpened my pencil and let out a scream.
I chewed the eraser. My nails were bitten.
I hoped I could puncture some part of this dream.

But, no, it was real, and she said she would flunk me
If I didn't do it, and do it right then.
I felt like a fool with a sign that said, "Dunk me!"
Who falls in the water, and falls down again.

Then suddenly something occurred. Was it clever?
I proudly displayed it. She freaked with surprise.
She said it was awful, the worst she'd seen ever.
She flunked me with pleasure in spite of my cries.

2

Haiku: Japanese
form that is unworthy of
the English language.

I understand why she flunked you, though I find the first poem explaining the occurrence to be quite good.

[AuntShecky]

I really hate doing what my sainted mother used to call "throwing bouquets," so I'm reluctant (as well as reticent) about pointing to what I'd consider my "best" work, since I'm honest enough to admit that my "best" would probably be someone else's "worst." Despite all that, here's the link to a piece which first appeared in February of 2012 in the "Anti-fiction" thread, replies #83 through #85.

http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?48060-Auntie-s-Anti-fiction&p=1113584&viewfull=1#post1113584


Thanks for asking, Cacian.

[cacian]

I really hate doing what my sainted mother used to call "throwing bouquets," so I'm reluctant (as well as reticent) about pointing to what I'd consider my "best" work, since I'm honest enough to admit that my "best" would probably be someone else's "worst." Despite all that, here's the link to a piece which first appeared in February of 2012 in the "Anti-fiction" thread, replies #83 through #85.

http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?48060-Auntie-s-Anti-fiction&p=1113584&viewfull=1#post1113584


Thanks for asking, Cacian.

you are welcome.I personally feel it is part of writing to be able to say or recognise that one's work is better best or not. one must like the sound of one's own voice. inspiration is from within.