Realistic red rose tattoo with green leaves on the upper back near the shoulder blade, shown in colour.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Red rose on a shoulder blade

Realism · Shoulder · Colour · Photo

A large red rose in full bloom is tattooed on the upper back, with its petals opening outward and dark green leaves spreading below it. The petals are shaded with smooth gradients from deep crimson to lighter pink highlights, giving a realistic, dimensional look. Soft grey-green shading sits behind the flower and leaves, and the background of the photo is blurred.

Realism Botanical Shoulder Back Rose Leaves 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

The rain had got under the awning by eight, so I gave up pretending the buckets would catch it all and moved the roses to the back of the stall, where the light was thin and the reds went the colour of old wine.

Keep reading

Ada Pryce came by at closing with her collar up and asked for the best one I had. I told her they were all the best, which is what you say when you have sixty stems left and a van to load. She chose the one at the end of the bucket, the fullest, its outer petals already curling back like a page turned down. Her hand was steady. Mine wasn't, wrapping the stem in brown paper, because my husband Desmond grew roses on the allotment behind the chapel for thirty-one years, and that deep crimson variety was his. He swore it would outlive us both.

She counted the coins onto my palm one at a time and said she was taking it up to the cemetery on the hill, not to anyone's door. I said that was a kind place for it. She said somebody had once told her a rose was an apology or a promise, depending on which way the stem faced. I said Desmond had never once faced anything the right way, and she laughed, a short surprised sound, and the rain swallowed it.

After she'd gone the stall still smelled of him, of wet soil and cut green, and I stood a long while under the dripping edge with the last bucket. When the rain finally eased, the water in the bottom of it held a single red petal, turning slowly, as if it had decided to go somewhere after all.