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JB ART Paintings

  • Bee Baby and Donkey Eeyore.

    Let's have some fun for the dream to come.
    This is a fairy tale for the girl Katya.
    But! Moms, dads, grandfathers and grandmothers will also find in it an interesting idea.
    After all, as you know - a fairy tale is a lie, but in it a hint ..... well, further in the text, I'm sorry, I do not have time - the children go to bed early.)))

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    In a fairy tale that only does not happen!
    Heroes go to visit each other, fly from fairy tale to fairy tale, help to solve problems. For example, Little Bird The little girl often flew to the country of Winnie-the-Pooh, and the teddy bear came to chat with Matushka-Pchela (he considered her the correct bee).
    And the bear cub was not mistaken.
    So, a hundred-acre forest, where he lived Winnie-the-Pooh, is next to the forest Bee Babes.
    You only need to go through the chamomile field and immediately get to the Downy Edge.
    Behind her, as is known, is the house of Winnie-the-Pooh, then - the Creek, and on the western border of the forest the High High Oak grows - almost the same as the one in which Bee's Little-one lived.
    However, it's not about that.

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    On that day, about which I want to tell, Baby played with the Sun Bunny.
    She rushed after him and did not notice how she was in a nearby forest.


     

    The bee flew past the Creek, where Viny-Pooh found the North Pole, past the prickly gorse, and was on a clearing.
    Eeyore stood in the thistle and thought about something.
    He was so immobile that the Beef Little Baby was frightened.
    - Hey! She cried. - Are you alive?
    - Not really.

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    "What do you mean, not really?" - The baby was surprised.
    Eeyore sighed.
    "I lost something," he replied.
    "The tail again?"
    Bee heard this story, so she said the first thing that came to mind.
    "No," said the Donkey.
    Eeyore turned back to Malyshka and showed a tail with a gray tassel at the end.
    "So what did you lose?"
    "The taste of life," Eeyore said, and looked at the ground with sorrow.
    The little one sat down on a thistle and pondered. She knew the taste of pollen, but the taste of life .... Probably something new.
    "What does he taste like?"
    "Everyone has his own," the Donkey answered and stepped from foot to foot.
    The bee sat down on the bush and began to buzz with impatience.
    "Why are you buzzing so loud?" - frowned Eeyore.
    "I think so," answered Bee.
    "A strange way of thinking," snarled the Donkey. "When you think, you need silence."
    - Are you sure?

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    The donkey froze again. Apparently, this time, I thought about the answer.
    "No," he finally said. "I'm not sure of anything."
    The bee fell from the bush and flew across the meadow back and forth.
    "Maybe the taste of life has fallen?" She suggested. - I hid in the grass and waited.
    "Whom?" Asked the Donkey.
    - You! Whom else!
    "Maybe he fell."
    "Or flew to the clouds."
    "Who knows," Eeyore replied with a peek.
    "Do you want me to look for him?"
    The donkey did not answer. He again stared into the ground and froze.

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    The bee rose to the sky and spun among the clouds. She looked in different corners, but never met the taste of life. However, it is not surprising! After all, the Baby did not know what she was looking for.
    "How can we help the Donkey?" Muttered Bee.
    And at that time the Sunny Bunny appeared.

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    "We must paint Eeyore," he exclaimed.
    - Is it possible?
    - Why not!
    "That's good," thought Bee. "He never gives up."
    Sunny Bunny jumped up, and the Baby rushed after him.
    She saw a long beam, and at its end - scissors. They were so brilliant that their eyes began to gleam.
    Sunny Bunny leaned the scissors to the sky and clicked twice. For the first time the blue veil fell, the second time - pink.

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    - It is done! Cried Sunny Bunny. "Now there will be heaven with Eeyore."
    - Always! Cried the Baby and flipped over her head.
    Friends went down, and Sunny Bunny threw a blue veil on Eeyore. She, like a fog, crawled over her back, head, legs ....
    - What is it? Donkey was startled.
    "Celestial beauty," answered Sunny Bunny.
    - Now you will see, - added Bee. "Just do not twist."
    The pink veil fell into four pieces. The biggest one is Ea on the muzzle, the two middle ones are on ears, the small one has clasped the tail and got into the bow himself.
    "I do not believe it!" - Exclaimed Bee Baby. - You are transfigured!
    "Pre-ob-ra-zil-Xia," repeated Eeyore.
    It seemed that Donkey savored every syllable.
    "Well, yes," said the Baby. - Became some kind of funny.
    "Heaven-pink," said the Sun Ray.

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    "It can not be," the Donkey whispered.
    - Look into a drop of dew.
    Eeyore leaned over the dew and ... saw a blue Donkey with a pink nose and pink ears.
    - It's me?
    - Of course! Cried the Baby.
    "Do not even doubt it," the Sunny Bunny shouted and ran about his business.
    - Hooray! Shouted Eeyore. - I found!
    - I have found? - asked Bee Baby.
    - Taste of life! Answered the Donkey and rode along the clearing.
    The bee flew after him.
    - W-Well! - Hooted Bee. "And what is his taste of life?"
    - Heavenly pink! - answered Eeyore.

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    Vladimir Kush Vita Memorae

     

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  • Victoria Cherlenyuk. Coffee is not just a drink, it's a drink of love ....





                A cozy evening with a cup of coffee!
    And although some of the comrades and perform, but you can and strong))

    Coffee is not just a drink, it's a drink of love ....
    Because she, love, often begins,
    Begins with a banal phrase:
    "Let me invite you to a cup of coffee ...".

    Natasha Ruzickaya

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    - Double and without sugar.
    Penka for coffee was like a galactic spiral. She turned slowly. The vesicles in its branches exploded like supernovae. A small universe.
    I took a sip, - and the universe cringed, frightened. To drink - or how? And what if there was a whole world in this white public cup, peacefully landed under a lilac astra on a table in a cozy university canteen? And even - the bearers of the mind ??
    Another sip. The coffee was strong, invigorating, slightly bitter, like a well-prepared noble drink. The galactic spiral noticeably faded away, turning into shreds of a supernumerary nebula.

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    "Maybe another cup?" - At the edge of the saucer sat a small coffee-colored creature and affectionately stretched out my limb.
    Forms it was uncertain, everything seemed to flow, but undoubtedly was the bearer of reason. And wanted to make contact.
    - One minute. - I took a more comfortable tea (or in this case it should be called coffee?) Spoon.
    - We are glad that you, as a representative of the macro-view, paid attention to our existence. - The creature's voice was soft, intelligent, with a slightly noticeable English accent. "Our world is very different from yours, but, you see, time is four-dimensional ..."
    - Well, of course. - I carefully brought the spoon to the creature and, having caught it, flopped it back into the cup.
    To be faithful, she stirred. I tried it. Strong, invigorating, only, it seems, became bitter. Good coffee is cooked in our canteen.
    I handed over the dirty dishes and went to the seminar. The seminar was called "Possible ways of detecting extraterrestrial civilizations" and I really liked it. I did not want to be late for him.

    Vinogradova Tatyana Evgenevna

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  • Andre Brito Hide the claws, kitty; Here, on my chest ...



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    Hide the claws, kitty; Here, on my chest,
    What caresses tenderly to you is always embraced,
    And let my eyes in your eyes sink,
    Where is the cold shine of metal and agate!

    When I caress your head,
    That back is flexible with his hand careless,
    When, pensive, I light catch swarm
    Spark electrical, touching you gently,

    In my soul there is a familiar vision:
    Her insensitive, her cold look
    My chest pierces like steel, without regret,

    And from head to toe, like a subtle scent,
    Around the body of a swarthy stream, a deadly poison,
    She is with me again, as in the previous moments.

    Charles Baudelaire

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