When poetry is little more than skin deep

I have to confess: I don’t really know what to make of tattoos.

I don’t have any myself and I guess I’m from an age when only soldiers and sailors were tattooed (generally when they were very drunk, like Margaret’s younger brother Norman).

Nowadays, it’s considered something of an art form - body art - and some clever and attractive people have it done when they are stone cold sober.

Indeed, my youngest son Max has a tattoo on his shoulder. He says it’s a tribal design , although I’ve no idea which tribe designed it!

I’ll be honest, nothing would induce me to let someone inject ink under my skin even in hospital conditions with a well-sterilised needle, let alone some scruffy scrote in a back room of a T-shirt shop.

But then people pierce holes in their ears and push studs through their tongue, so there we are.

I’m also surprised by the things people have inked into themselves. The daughter of the landlord of the village pub has a massive angel across her back, with wings extending to her shoulders and the body disappearing down the back of her T-shirt. A girl at work has a snake wrapped around her and carries a picture of it on her iPhone so she can show you without getting undressed.

A lot of tattoo artwork is quite sinister. Snakes figure fairly often, also many winged creatures, including eagles, angels and bat-like demons; skulls, daggers and hearts (often pierced or bleeding).

My brother-in-law Harvey had the name of his first grand-daughter tattooed on the back of his neck and names of loved ones is a recurring theme. I once saw a chap in the swimming pool at Butlins who had “Mild, Carol, Bitter” tattooed across his chest (the commas are mine, his tattoo was not punctuated). I’m guessing they were the three loves of his life - a dark, malty beer popular in the midlands and north of England; his wife (Carol); and a lighter, more heavily hopped beer popular just about everywhere. Or perhaps it was a deeper commentary on how mild Carol had become bitter after meeting him.

I came across this tattoo earlier today. It belongs to a Facebook friend of a Facebook friend. I don’t know her, Facebook thought I might like to befriend her, and she has this image as her profile picture, so it’s the image of herself that she wants to project to the world.

It’s a meaningful, profound poem, quite a long one - the sort that would go well printed on a T-shirt, but this woman has decided to have it tattooed on her back instead. I'm pleased by the generally correct use of apostrophes and also that the tattoo artist remembered the question mark. I don't care for the use of the word 'cause' instead of 'because'. 



This is what it says:

My best friend gave me the best advice
He said each day’s a gift and not a given right
Leave no stone unturned, leave your fears behind
and try to take the path less travelled by
That first step you take is the longest stride

Against the grain should be a way of life
What’s worth the prize is always worth the fight
Every second counts cause there’s no second try
So live like you’ll never live it twice
Don’t take the free ride in your own life

If today was your last day
Would you make your mark by mending a broken heart?
You know it’s never too late to shoot for the stars
regardless of who you are
So do whatever it takes
cos you can’t rewind a moment in this life
Let nothin’ stand in your way
cause the hands of time are never on your side