| Member Submitted Body Art Poetry | |
All Poem Pages: 1 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13
Today's Tattoos Vs. The Old Day's Tattoos
By John Carter
Only bikers and servicemen had 'em at one time
Nowadays "respectable" people have them
Hell, Roseanne & Cher have 'em on their behind
Poor Man's art collecting is what I call it
One tattoo and you'll be addicted to it
Some people hate them, yet ask, hey can I have a peek?
Beautiful colors + endless designs = each one unique
In the past there was infections, if you know what I mean
Today's artist's take courses on how to be 100% safe & clean
Sure they hurt a little, "but you won't die"
Surprise your friends and watch the look in their eyes
Wow! You got a tattoo! Maybe I'll get one, too!
You reply, Go with me when I get #2
Tattooed people are cool, respectable - peace loving
Other words, just like everyone else "except for their artwork"
Ours hangs on no wall - it's on our flesh
Butterfly, Butterfly
By Dava Triplett
Butterfly, butterfly on the center of my back.
The reason your there is a serious fact.
I placed you there to represent what I now lack.
You hold the name of MOM.
A dear who is no longer here.
Bold and bright just as she during her flight of life.
Now you remind of how short the life flight can be.
Time passed too quickly and wasted by me.
Mom did not like the ink on my back.
Mom would love the ink that she sees
from her flight above and understands the ink on me.
The Phoenix Tattoo
By Robyn Guillory
drag the droning needle
under my flesh and across my bones
lay out the colors
orange for my jealousy
of the pixeled, bleeping screen
that mesmerized you
red for my fury
bottled in my art and in my dreams
and hidden behind a wife's sweet smile
green and blue
for my trials by night
the tortured thin air of loneliness and tears
hidden, all hidden from you!
and many, many shades between
bring them out to mark the journey
the path of coals that I have run.
carve the long lines dark and deep
and do not falter if I flinch
for Pain and I are old established friends
draw out the wings and etch the flames
and bring me freedom from this sordid hole
dank and dark and smothering ring of bondage
for I am not what you would have me be
a china doll in a cubby hole---I refuse
I fly above and away and am reborn.
tattoo parlor haiku
By Stacy Pendergrast
tattoo parlor--
he asks for skin space
for future lovers
All Poem Pages: 1 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13
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