Black script lettering of a short rhyming poem across a person's upper back, with a pink wall and posters behind.

Rhyming poem script across upper back

Lettering · Back · Black and grey · Photo

Four lines of black cursive script run diagonally across the upper back, with the lines stepped and slightly offset from one another. The linework is smooth and even, and the ink is solid black with no shading or added colour. The background is a bright pink wall decorated with framed prints, and the skin is shown in soft focus.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit down, the lot of you, and mind the teapot on the stairs. Mrs Pargeter won't have crumbs on her carpet, and I won't have anyone wandering off before the end, because this is the only tale I know that finishes with a kitchen appliance.

Keep reading

Dave Tulley came to the Gull and Lantern one wet August with a cardboard suitcase, a cough he could not shake and a notebook full of verse. His mother had packed him off for the sea air, and the sea air did nothing for his chest but a great deal for his heart. The heart in question belonged to Winifred Sowerby, who sold bootlaces and sea glass from a barrow at the end of the pier. Every morning Dave slipped a folded page under her teacup, and every morning she read it aloud to the gulls before she would read it to him.

His early efforts were dreadful. He wrote of moonlight on the tide and of her eyes like lighthouses, and Winifred laughed until she had to sit down on the barrow. So Dave sat up all night under the sea-wall lamp, scratching at one verse that rhymed so hard it squeaked. Roses are red, my name's Dave, he wrote, and then the fourth line came out of him at a gallop. This poem makes no sense. Microwave. There was no such thing as a microwave in the whole of Kent, and Dave knew it, but the rhyme had got the better of him.

Winifred read it, sniffed, and tucked it into her coat pocket with the sea glass. Some say she kept it for fifty years. The rest of us say she used it to wrap a crab, but she married him anyway, and the crabs at the end of the pier have been reciting that verse ever since.

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