Traditional-style black anchor with rope and pink and blue flowers on the inner wrist and forearm of a person with their hand raised.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Anchor and flowers on a wrist

Traditional · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A close photograph of a black anchor tattoo wrapped in rope, with clusters of pink, blue and yellow flowers at the crown and base of the anchor. The anchor has bold black outlines and solid black fill, while the flowers are rendered in soft colour. The subject sits centrally against a plain white background, with the hand raised at the top of the frame.

Traditional Forearm Anchor Rope Flower

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Every night the baker of Sallow Cross rose before the rooster, raked out the ash and built the fire again from driftwood the tide left on the shingle. His daughter Maud carried the flour sacks and kept the tea hot in a dented tin. The village said that bread made in the dark kept hunger out of the house, though nobody could say who first said it.

Keep reading

One winter a sea fog came in so thick that the boats stayed tied up for a fortnight, and the fishermen's wives stood at the bakery door with empty baskets. The baker had a stamp of pearwood, carved by his grandfather, an anchor with rope wound round its shank. He pressed it into every loaf so the boats would know the bread for their own. That morning he pressed it into the dough and set the loaves to prove beside the warm stones.

Maud noticed the flowers first. Her father had carved none. When she went to the back room she found the stamp lying on the bench, and someone had wrapped its crown in pink roses, its base in blue bells, and run a thread of yellow gorse through the rope. She did not ask who had done it. Her father only said the sea takes what it is given and gives back what it likes.

They carried the loaves down the shingle in the grey before dawn. The fog lifted as the first boat rounded the point. The fishermen took the bread from the baskets, saw the flowers pressed into the crust, and laughed, and the oldest of them said his wife had married him for less. After that the boats came home each morning, and the baker's daughter kept the stamp in her apron pocket, warm from the oven.