Colour traditional tattoo of a pink flamingo head with yellow plumeria flowers, green leaves and red berries on the thigh.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Flamingo and plumeria on a thigh

Traditional · Other · Colour · Photo

A pink flamingo head sits above a cluster of yellow-orange plumeria flowers, with large green monstera-style leaves and red berries around them. Bold black outlines define the shapes, with solid fills and soft shading in the flamingo's beak and flowers. Bright, saturated colours dominate the composition, which is arranged in a vertical panel along the thigh.

Traditional Other Flamingo Plumeria Flower Leaves Berry

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

The flamingos were leaving the salt pond again, and Tomas counted them the way his grandmother counted rosary beads, one pink neck at a time. Forty-one at dawn. Twelve by the time the fishing boats came round the point. Auntie Ines did not look up from her stall, where she was tying yellow plumeria into bunches with strips of monstera leaf. "They go when the nets come in," she said. "Birds know a bad day before the boys do."

Keep reading

The blossoms were the thickest they had been in years, fat and waxy, orange at the throat where the petals curled. Tomas liked their smell, sweet and a little like warm butter, and he liked the red berries that rolled off the table whenever a lorry rattled past. He asked her why the flamingos never came to the flowers. Ines said the birds kept to the water, the flowers kept to the trees, and neither had ever once asked the other for anything.

That afternoon the last twelve birds rose together over the pond and smeared themselves into one long pink line above the mangroves. Tomas ran down with an armful of leaves and a plumeria he had kept back in his shirt. He laid the biggest leaf flat on the wet sand, set the flower in its centre, and pushed it out with a stick until the current caught it.

Nothing came back for it. When he walked home the pond was only water, and the little boat of leaf and flower had gone past the reef onto the grey. Ines had already counted the bunches. Eleven left, she said, and tied them up anyway.