Black and grey botanical tattoo of poppy-style and chrysanthemum flowers on a forearm, with the wearer's hand resting on denim jeans.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Floral forearm tattoo with poppy and chrysanthemum

Botanical · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows three flower heads stacked down the forearm: a loosely drawn poppy-style bloom at the top, a larger open flower in the centre, and a dense chrysanthemum-like head below. The work is built from fine black outlines with light grey shading on the petals and centres. The image is in black and grey only, and the flowers fill the upper forearm against a plain background of a white top and blue jeans.

Botanical Fine line Forearm Flower Poppy Peony Chrysanthemum Floral Linework Bracelet

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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

Mrs Agnes Pollard kept the boarding house at the top of Gull Steps, and every spring she planted the same three things along the back wall: a row of red poppies that the salt wind flattened, a great pale peony her husband had brought back from Lisbon, and chrysanthemums in brown pots that she never let anyone move. Guests came for the sea and left talking about the garden.

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The summer the Cardew girl arrived with a tin trunk and no return ticket, the poppies came up first and wrong, papery and too bright for the weather. Agnes gave her the attic room and said nothing about the flowers. Each morning the girl went down to the wall with a pencil and a sketchbook, and each morning the blooms had moved a little closer to the house, as if they wanted to be drawn properly.

On the last Sunday of August a fishing boat came into the harbour without its crew, and the peony opened overnight, bigger than a dinner plate. Agnes cut it, carried it down to the harbour wall, and laid it on the stones where the tide could reach. The chrysanthemums folded shut. The poppies dropped their petals in a neat ring around the empty pots, the way the old people said they did when a debt had been paid.

The girl stayed on until the first frost. She left the sketchbook under the attic bed, and when Agnes opened it she found every flower drawn twice, once as it was and once as it would be, shaded in grey pencil so carefully that the petals seemed to lift off the page. Agnes pinned it beside the kitchen door and never asked the girl's name again.