how many tattoos
before I’ve said all
I need to say about me?
etched into my skin
definitions I don’t want
to forget.
when I’m seventy I won’t regret
having been inked,
even if wrinkled and faded,
they’re lost in the folds.
I’ll pull my skin tight
and there
I am.
I won’t ever be lost to myself.
by LISTENTOTHEBABE
© All rights reserved 2015
unbolt me 
Totally agree. The right tattoos will never grow old and serve as reminders of times in life, especially when we are old. Beautiful!
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Yes, it’s almost like making oneself a living scrapbook of memories, isn’t it? 🙂
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Yes forsure!
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Tati and Tony! What a wonderful surprise! Thank you!
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We hoped you would like the surprise, B. 😉
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blimey, this got more likes than i’ve ever seen on my blog. surpassed only by the boy and the cat strip.
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I know what you mean. It’s something I’m still very much trying to get used to as well. It’s a bit overwhelming! 😛
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Awesome.
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🙂
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Oh My, that final line is so key, cinches the poem wonderfully.
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It does, doesn’t it? I really like it. 🙂
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Yes I liked it–and I’m not a tattoo person at all 🙂 It’s so nice that you do “guest posts”–very generous heart you have, my friend 🙂
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Oh, we can thank Tati for that actually. It was always her idea to begin with. She’s very cool like that. 🙂
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Well thanks to Tati then–very cool idea 🙂
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That’s a wonderfully unique way of looking at tats. Nice.
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I want tats now. 😛
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To paraphrase Joni Mitchell “I’ve looked at tats from both sides now…”
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Love it!
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There’s a lot here to love! 🙂
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Excellent.
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I agree, Mark. 🙂
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Love this!!! No regrets!
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A life lived with no regrets… now that’s the most attractive thing of all! 🙂
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Agreed 🙂
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Ooops, the target was my shaved chest with the spread wingtips of said bad buzzard going from pect-to-pect. Though to speak of pain one fair biker friend did get “Your Name” tattooed to his pecker so he could tell his intended betrothee of an eve “I have your name tattooed to my dick!” His nome-de-bike was Faze and I always wondered why scofflaw bikers would make themselves so easily identified.
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Yes, that would be like having a name tag on one’s lunchbox, wouldn’t it? Kind of don’t want to be so easily identified as you rightly point out! 😛
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Thanks a bunch for the posting from listentothebabe, unbolt. I still treasure the 1988 $200 gift-certificate by Joe “Deacon” May to go towards my plucked buzzard atop a deflated basketball with a wire-wrapped bent rusty screw thrust at an angle through said ball tattoo. I opted not – for manifold excuses/reasons, but I do enjoy a thoughtful “arted” attest.
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We both really enjoyed this poem, J., so it was a pleasure to feature it here on Unbolt. I’m glad you liked it too! And… erm, that would have been a very painful place to get a tattoo! I can well understand why you didn’t go through with it! 😛
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