Traditional tattoo of orange flowers with green leaves and red dots on a forearm, with a blue flower at left and a snake head at lower right.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Traditional flowers and snake on a forearm

Traditional · Forearm · Colour · Photo

Several bold orange flowers with black outlines, dark green leaves and red dot accents sit across the skin, with a smaller blue flower to the left. A snake head and part of another design appear at the lower right edge. Solid colour fills and heavy black linework dominate, with a plastic wrap visible at the left edge of the frame.

Traditional Forearm Flower Snake Leaves Dot

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 nasturtiums had come up through the cracks in the slipway by the time Dad finally let me see the tin. He kept it under the bait freezer at the Porthaven chandlery, behind the paraffin drums, wrapped in a tarpaulin that smelled of diesel and oranges. Inside were seed packets, dozens of them, each marked in his square capitals with a date and a single word: LEE, FOG, BRIDGE, WIDOW. The orange ones always came last.

Keep reading

Nobody grew anything on the quay, because the gulls took what they wanted and the salt took the rest. Dad planted his anyway, in old paint tins along the harbour wall, and told the tourists they were marigolds. Sheila from the ice cream hut knew better. 'Nasturtiums,' she'd say, 'they taste of pepper,' and he'd laugh with his whole chest, pleased to be caught out.

The grass snake in the rope store was his doing too. He called her Mrs Penhallow and fed her mice from the cupboard, and when the council men came to clear the wall she was the only thing they were afraid of. It was in the bottom of the tin, under the packets, that I found the list of every place he'd sown them: the lifeboat slip, the bench by the pilchard works, the step outside Sheila's.

We buried him on a Tuesday. On the Wednesday I pressed one seed into the paint tin beside his, watered it from the bucket he used for the boat, and waited for the gulls to notice. Mrs Penhallow lay coiled on the rope store step, watching me the way she used to watch him, and I let her.