Eight to the Bar

By Halfelven - About Me - E-mail this page - Add to My Favorites - Add to Blog List - See other blogs in Humor

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

I Dreamed I Saw the Morning

I dreamed I saw the morning Slip softly o'er the hill I dreamed I saw her smiling Her face bright as the sun I dreamed I heard her singing Her voice like a bird's trill "It's time you were awaking, For the day has just begun." Sign in to see full entry.

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Monday, April 21, 2008

Patchwork Heart

When a friend dies, they take a piece of us With them to eternity. But they leave A piece of their heart with us, it's a fair Exchange. This applies to our furry friends As well as human ones. My heart is made Up of a patchwork of all the pieces I have been left by my pets and loved ones. And one... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Halfelven at 7:27 PM | add or view comments (11) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Birdsong -15- Synchronicity of Fortune

Some people have all the luck... Birdsong 15. Synchronicity of Fortune by Joyce Melton The clattering bells didn't distract Birdsong, he hardly glanced at the screen of the video slot machine he'd been playing. He played twice more then hit the cashout button. Somebody would be coming out of the... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Halfelven at 10:48 PM | add or view comments (7) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Saturday, April 19, 2008

Five Too Many

Five Too Many by Joyce Melton The docudrama about the war in the Balkans wasn't going too well. The subject was terribly depressing of course and no one really wants to be a nameless faceless villain so radical director Wayne "Too Pork" Lavender was having some trouble hiring enough actors for all... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Halfelven at 10:44 PM | add or view comments (8) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Friday, April 18, 2008

Birdsong -14- Big Men, Small Room

"It's not my knife," said Nolan. Birdsong 14. Big Men, Small Room by Joyce Melton The big Samoan guard, Wendell Cole, at the door to the parking garage must have smelled something. He couldn't have heard anything, more than seventy feet away and around two corners of the complicated casino interior... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Halfelven at 6:31 PM | add or view comments (7) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

About this Blog

Stories, poems, songs, jokes, recipes and musings by Joyce Melton. The title comes from music, the boogie-woogie style of jazz has eight beats to the bar. It's fast and intense. I'm going to try to blog daily for awhile and see if people are interested in my stuff.

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