Colour botanical tattoo of poppies and roses on the upper chest of a person wearing a grey V-neck top.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Poppies and roses on a chest

Botanical · Chest · Colour · Photo

A cluster of red and pink poppies and roses with green leaves sits on the upper chest, angled down towards the neckline of a grey V-neck t-shirt. The petals are shaded with soft gradients and fine detail, giving a realistic, painterly finish. The warm pinks and reds stand out against the pale skin and neutral grey fabric, and the tattoo fills the right side of the frame.

Botanical Realism Chest Poppy Rose Flower Leaves Bouquet

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 spoil tip above Glebe Pit is the only place in Hollin Dale where the poppies come up before anyone thinks to sow them, so you climb it at six with a jam jar and your brother's old cap pulled down over your ears. Grey shale slides under your boots. Below, the wheel headgear turns against a sky the colour of wet slate, and you already know the shift bell will ring before you reach the top.

Keep reading

Owen is nineteen and thinks he is a man because he has a lamp of his own and a cough like their father's. Every morning you leave him a sprig in his snap tin, tucked under the cheese and the heel of the loaf, so he can find something red when the cage drops him into the dark. He pretends not to notice. Your mother grows roses along the yard wall, pink and dark red, and she says a rose is for keeping and a poppy is for passing through.

The winter the pit shuts, the whole village goes quiet in the way a clock does when someone stops it. Men stand at the gate with their hands in their pockets. Owen sits on the back step with the empty tin on his knees, turning it over and over. You walk up the tip alone in February, expecting nothing, and find the shale already flecked with orange and rose, papery and bold, as though the ground had been keeping them back for someone to ask.

You fill the jar, carry it down past the locked gates, and set it on the step beside him. He looks at the poppies for a long time before he lifts one out and tucks it behind his ear, the way he used to when he was small, and you both sit there while the light goes off the wheel.