Your Story In Ink.

I am fascinated when I ask people about what their tattoos mean and a whole story spills out about what they really mean to them. Write a poem about what one of your tattoos means to you. I have four myself and they all mean something to me.

Link a picture if you would like too.

If you don't have any tattoos, perhaps find a picture of one you would like and write about that.

Rules

* No more than 2 entries per person.
* No word limit.
* No collabs - it should be personal to you.
* New or old writes accepted.
* You've got two weeks.

Good luck!

ooou exciting
I feel one of my tats is poetic itself so this will be a fun challenge to tell its story poetically I will return yay

My Marks

The way in which I mark myself,
The ink that seems to be now quite common.
I get nervous, I shake, but I know what I want,
I have always been very sure of each and every one.

Never have I regretted them,
All twelve stay loved on my skin, they’re mine.
I know I will get more still, it’s an itching,
And the ideas for space and art will grow with time.

There are my eyebrows and the wolf on my calf.
And ‘It’s better to be hated for who you are,
Than to be loved for who you are not’, it says,
Written across my foot with complete belief so far.

Then a genie bottle on my thigh,
With a male angel emerging from its mist,
Holding tightly his demon woman, in such detail.
And a dragon across my back, entirely pride-kissed.

‘Made from Sheffield steel’,
Around my belly button, and some stars on one shoulder.
On the other is an angel carrying my granddads name,
The one that means the most to me, never growing colder.

My husband’s name on my wrist showing love,
And ‘Better thank your lucky stars’ on the other, my second ever,
And some unusual tribal on my forearm that turned out so great,
Many thought with me being a young girl it just wouldn’t work altogether.

Now I’m sure most of my tattoos,
Are not for everyone, and will get many opinions along the way.
But I have always thought hard about each one,
And I will always have these marks to show who I am and what I have to say.

http://i176.photobucket.com/albums/w164/raorrick/photo.jpg

My Poetical Tattoo


Cherokee Mother-loved the frog
and
Cherokee Grandmother-loved the eagle

you
nurtured me
like your own

you
raised me-taught me-forgave me

unconditional
your love was
from birth

the dream catcher is yours
for
not only did you teach me to chase my dreams
but
to catch them as well

the feather’s are bright
as
are your souls
that shine in the mid-night sky

Birth Mother-loved the butterfly
and
Birth Grandmother-loved to paint

you
never left my life
but
knew the sacrifice you had to make

a painting of the
Golden Gate

for that is where
your ashes of four

are
spread

sorry it's so big

just below the remnants
of my past pin-cushioned exterior
are marked the finest nine letters
I could borrow
to make music,
however bittersweet-
of my wasted existence.

m a m a
t r i e d

reading eagerily
almost in response
to the abscess scar
left on other side
of elbow, its far deeper
than the whimsy
I wish to display

The words themselves
were coined in song
in the culture of outlaw Americana
and as I am of the brood
destined for flame,
I will drink to my fate
without the passing of blame

My future tattoo

The pair of wings would
unfold the story in symbols
greek: 'θα σε δω μια
μέρα στις μέρες του κόσμου'*


*I'll see/find you one day
around the days of the world.

Good entries people. Need a few more entries though. Come on people!

http://www.facebook.com/#!/photo.php?fbid=491224897427&set=a.491222127427.264119.642537427&type=3&

I think of you…
when the sun comes out
to warm my saddened face,
and when I close my eyes
I can feel your warm embrace.

I think of you…
When the stars at night
light up the darkened sky
and when I hear a love song
with a sad goodbye

I think of you
When I lay down at night
And I close my eyes to sleep
I see your deep blue eyes on mine
And silently start to weep

I think of you
when the sun goes down
and the air begins to chill
when I look to the skies and see your face
You are a memory I cannot erase.

You were perfect
Amazing in every way
I wish i'd had the chance...
Just three words to say...

They've escaped these lips
But all I taste is regret,
Your face is etched into my mind
And your kiss I won't forget..

You've mark my skin
as no one else will
your initials in script
our symbol etched in sadness.

I love you....
And I will always be here..
Forgive me, my love
For I’ve been baptized in tears.

For Jacob. The man I still still dearly even though he's been gone for years now. Life, love, and happiness my sweet.

It is the celtic symbol for life, love and happiness... the three things he longed for most of all, and of course his initials. It is not yet done... there will be a complete cherry blossom tree accross me back, with one of my poems about Jake cradled in the branches.  

Memories Healed By Needles


razor blades decorated
         with candy snow

the main attraction of
         the family owned freak show

isolated inside the
         curse of an artist

whose opinions always
         tend to be the cruelest

savoring the destruction
         of self mutilation

spitting on the shitty
         fable called salvation

with a.d.d. and lost
         emotion shes impulsive

ebony stained mirrors
         reflect how repulsive

the pain and regret have
         numbed a shrieking conscience

the same addictions that assisted
         the theft her of her innocence

cigarette laced lips
         exciting famished taste buds

while inhaling smoke off
         some vibrant emerald buds

sixxx feet deep buried
         premature inside her casket

seeping insanity foreshadowing
         something sinister and drastic

she had to find something
         she could control

without the stress
         of going to parole

find a way of self healing
         her broken childhood

using needles to help
         her grip with adulthood

longing for the lost
         days of ignorant bliss

digging up treasured pieces
         of herself with this

she forgot her identity for
         awhile until then didn't she

but im fairly certain her
         blurry name is Courtney

i honestly believe this
         tattoo helped save me

just a little baby pokemon on
         my right ankle named Eevee

Ms. Arachne


O great goddess Athena
Whose ways have shaped our own drear worlds
Your grace that danced of lust and need
Have your choices done us wrong?
Or shown us death through beauty?
 
Was she wrong to boast of skill?
To threaten you of mortal will
Did she best you of your craft?
Get to far from human ways
And deserve the wrath
Of a goddess known best from war
 
Her weaving was undeniable
Beauty enough to draw her hate
Envy followed her every wake
She found her gift and thought of fate
Alas it was her downfalll
 
a goddess knows true vengence
Ms. Arachne is now aware
For she was once a fair maiden
But now spins of despare
And takes revenge of an art
 
"Hello dear butterfly
Whose flowen into my den
Your wings are now mine
Nureshment for my resentment.
Let your brotheren hear you cry"
 
To show your new masterpiece
And spin new webs of your release
Turn your secrets into children
And invent your passion into a species
To breed together madame black widow
 
So as a capricorn deep rooted with the earth
Always fiending for something more
A wiccan artist searching for design
My black widow tatto will represent
A womens hunger for passion, praise, and deadly beauty

(this is an older poem i wrote awhile back)

That's not artwork!

just over 2 inches
of solid black
to say something about
how not to do your duty
if I ever get the chance.

I was going to have your initials
and a few dates wrapped around it,
but quite frankly...
it didn't seem worth it.

That £10,000 could cover me,
head to toe,
but my arm reminds me
what a wet cunt you were.

Nice enough...
Don't get me wrong.

There's others there,
and they'll be more,
but things aren't too bad
at the moment.

Anyway,
you are the thickest
of them.

I suppose that's all down
to the extra weight
of some of the shit
that might have been
inherited.

I love and hate my tattoo all at the same time.

Funny, considering it means ‘love’.

I got it on valentines day, February 14th 2010. It rests on the underside of my left forearm. ( closest to my heart. )

It was a spur of the moment tattoo, even though I’d longed for it for years. I got a call that morning from a friend who had asked me to go with them and watch while they got their own ink. I saw them practically crying in the chair and I knew then I had to one up them and get my own.

I got the Japanese kanji for love. It was meant as a symble to represent the love I had for my own body. ‘Don’t hurt yourself Kayla, you love your temple.’ it would say every time I felt the urges.

But now, it doesn’t work like it use to, and all I want to do is carve it from my skin.

Because the day I got it is still fresh in my memory. Who I had been with that day, his voice is still in my head, along with his nasty ghost fingerprints still clinging to my ribs.

(  Sorry, this is more prosetry than anything else. :/ But this was the only way I could get it out. )

raorrick said:sorry it's so big

Rachel it is Great How do you post a pic on here?

There might be an easier way than this but I have an account with Photobucket.com and it gives a URL that you can post.