Igor Zeinalov, Sculptor The story which I am about to relate Is a tale of Love that some people might hate; For the hero and heroine are somewhat mis-matched, Proving Love doesn't give a damn how it is...hatched! A young woman named Leda, with long golden hair, Did stroll on the river-bank, quite unaware That a stalker was following her, cruising along On the cool water's surface, while she sang this song: "O, where is the man who will steal my heart? Let him come to me now, and we ne'er will part!" As she finished her ditty, to Leda's surprise A great white swan landed in front of her eyes! The majestic bird bowed his long neck, and his head Rubbed against her bare legs---Leda shivered, and said: "O, how lovely!  Are you a Prince under a spell? If I kissed you, do you think it would make you well?" The Swan opened his beak in a wide wicked leer, And Leda grew flustered as the bird waddled near--- She saw a Lightning-shaped mark on hi

   Something was about to happen in the garden. The bees had stopped gathering, and even the flies paused in their buzzing. They could feel it. Something unusual and unexpected was on its way on that hot day.     The hollow beneath the weeping willow’s canopy provided a perfect hiding place for a red fox. The tree’s whips and leaves hung like an old man’s beard, nearly touching the ground. The fox lay stretched out on his belly in the deep grass beneath the canopy, enjoying the cool, green shade.     The willow grew on a slight rise in the yard. From the base of the tree, the fox had a clear view of the run-down house and garden, which had sat abandoned for years. They became the perfect, safe home for various types of critters. A family of possums made their home beneath the house’s rotting porch and steps. The fox watched Missus Possum with her large family in tow, as she returned from her nightly food gathering.     “Two more, I see,” he chuckled. “I must rememb

This is the true story of Luther Weems, A shy and troubled man, afflicted With paranoid schizophrenia, He was also an artist quite gifted; The doctors at the asylum agreed To let him outside the grounds And paint glorious landscapes of the countryside around... He wished to paint a night-scene Called "Full Moon O'er The Valley"-- But grim Fate came for Luther Weems As he wielded his brush that night; A shaggy gray shape charged at him Whilst his shrink ran off in fright! Imagine the dread of a normal man At the sight of a slavering werewolf: To a man prey to hallucinations of dread Such an encounter might strike him dead Before ever a fang or a claw could strike-- But Luther, with a yell, grabbed his easel And fought, though he screamed in terror at the fiend; The monster was cheated of murder, though he bit The flailing madman in the knee! So Luther returned, much perturbed, to his cell, Wh

The 'Adorable' meter just redlined. https://www.deviantart.com/gregsbird

The finished painting of the third in my series celebrating dance.  To see the art in progress, go to  www.youtube.com/watch?v=OlQ3ZE…   https://www.deviantart.com/flapperfoxy The Bee's Knees!

Hi Guys! It's Andrew the Bee , with something new from Mercenary Blade !  We've been following the futuristic adventures of Red , out on the savage world of Caligula , but today we're trading in sci-fi for fantasy !  Let's see what happens when an intrepid thief breaks into a noble's castle to steal something important!  We're talking crime and punishment , but maybe not in the way you might think !   ******* Farah was over the wall and into the shadows of the courtyard in a matter of seconds, she was but a dark blur of movement against a darker backdrop. Her ears and tail twitching the nimble ferret crept through the tall garden plants. Two halberd-armed guards patrolled the interior courtyard, a bear and wolf respectively. She’d been hired to steal the prized mace of the local duke; it was a purely ceremonial mace made of gold, more a badge of office than a true weapon. What her employer wanted was beyond her, but she really couldn’t care less.

To Be Continued...