picklemafia

[picklemafia]

This is fantastic work! Thank you for sharing this. I hope you're on the mend, fully. Bright days and good health to you. Im also very glad you've found something good in both the poetry prompts and that group! Thank you so much for participating! @acrimsonlily

Who I Write For

I still write because I had a heart attack this year From my own neglect, from what I couldn’t face Nothing healed me, just self-anger, hate, and fear I never studied poems, I just needed space

----------------------------------------------------

I started again in a hospital bed Not because I had to but I wanted to try I learned that breaking just helps you die Poetry helped but never used to mend

----------------------------------------------------

It started fixing me It gave me direction It soothes my urge to create It soothes my desire to heal

I write it differently these days Sometimes it's technical Sometimes it's emotional

My goals shift They multiply They change form But mostly I don’t need a goal anymore And that’s the point

----------------------------------------------------

I realized something inside of a 'spark' Born from a prompt, from 'skin' to scar My poetry diluted and polluted, turned corrupt Each metaphor cut down for simplicity’s sake Something inside refused to vanish without rhythm It flexed beneath my rib cage, sour yet sweet A scar turned into a scab and I kept writing No longer afraid to love the words I choose No longer ashamed of how I sound Be it complex, be it simple This voice is finally mine

----------------------------------------------------

And rather than keep it all in my head I return to the words I’ve written For the next me, still changing each day To remember what I’ve been given

----------------------------------------------------

Words became my cure From pain, I carved out a voice Now I write for me

----------------------------------------------------

My thoughts: The previous poem explained my grief, this time, I wanted to share the joy that poetry has given me and how I use it to navigate not only old wounds but new ones too. I wanted to share what I've gained from being invited into The Poets' Porch. If I had never been invited, I wouldn't of seen the prompts from @picklemafia and I would've never realized I was still holding onto trying to throw a part of me away. To demonstrate this, I decided to break this poetry into multiple styles, to show to myself that I am no longer bounded to ghosts. Not to show technical ability but to show how poetry and chance can change someone without notice. Thank you.

[picklemafia]

Fantastic work! I loved your poem! Thank you so much for participating! @moltenglory-writes

Cut to the Chase

Slice the tension

like my Achilles

and spring it free

severed regardless of outcome.

Its not enough

to ease in

release the balloon

or to slowly let on.

No, a knife, a scalpel

a surgeon's precision

and confidence

is needed to say it.

I almost did

say it, that is

in your arms

Friday night.

My courage failed

my trust turtled inside

afraid you wouldn't answer,

afraid of being alone in love.

But a knife!

A serrated edge

of brave fortitude

is the only way to tell you.

So let me cut

hack if I must

and confess my stupidity

at waiting so long.

.

.

Submission for the prompt "knife" by @picklemafia.

[picklemafia]

Absolutely fantastic poem! Great work! Thank you so much for participating! @crryybabbyy

FACADE

by meagain

[picklemafia]

Wonderful poem! Fantastic work! Thank you so much for participating! @decayed-daisy

you were a twisted monstrosity that came into my life.

love is a battlefield we have entered—

born as enemies in disguise,

each are willing to sacrifice.

you pulled me out of misery—

a salvation from above,

a prayer that i have.

yet you brought me back in there—

with a knife in your hand,

and unspoken words in mind.

‎

[picklemafia]

Fantastic poem! Great work! Thank you so much for participating! @we-watch-the-sky-bleeding

I think that

the knife chose me, buried in the ground as it was,

waiting for clever fingers to notice it

beneath that tuft of grass

and pry it free.

That knife remembers

a night of cherry vodka,

the joy of sharp language falling from my lips as easily

as a fist bites into plywood

and a drunk takes another swig from a bottle while two boys wrestle in the damp summer grass.

The knife remembers the condensation on the window

and the angry shouts that woke the neighbors that next morning

as imperfect communication shattered into something with sharper edges.

And the feel of the trigger beneath my hand,

the journey in my pocket with the shells, their contents emptied

into a splintered wooden stump.

They still sit

in a line on my dresser, ready to

spill the memories back into my mind.

And beside them is the little black knife

I found in the grass.

[picklemafia]

This is an incredible poem. I loved it so much. Thank you so much for participating! @living--in--salt

For the @picklemafia and @nyx-tenberis prompt "knife".

In Memory of...

We were never close, or rather,

not as close as others---

there are those whose

hearts beat in unison,

and those whose minds trade

thoughts

with the glance of a eye

sideways between the two.

Still, in the summer months,

with our legs dangling

off of the billboard

at the bottom of Mason Street,

and our bodies smelling

salty and sweet cut through

the heavy air like a knife...

while the heavenly bodies

illuminated us in the velvet

twilight...we couldn't have been

very far.

06.24.25

[picklemafia]

Incredible poem! Love the imagery here, and the zest for life and the little things. Fantastic work! Thank you so much for participating! @her-apostrophe

Knife Aftertaste

Sometimes I lick a knife

Washed clean from icing that dressed the

Endless cupcakes

Letting the flavors of the decorative coating

Permeate my being.

It tastes like -

Belting out a high note leaving me breathless,

A surprise rainfall hitting my scalp,

Eyes locking on to each other like a missle launch,

Contrails forming above me in the horizon,

Holding in laughter at 1 am, tears streaming,

A thought grabbing onto my person

Before I could forget again.

The cold blade tickles my tongue on its

Sharp edge warning me

Like always.

Like always,

I will again pick up that knife

And savor something more out of life.

one word prompt 'knife' - @nyx-tenberis @picklemafia

[picklemafia]

just wanted to say howdy and that your “knife” poetry prompt is killer! people have been putting out some lovely stuff thanks to your creative inspo so thank you for that 💞

Hey there! Thank you! Yes we've got some fantastic poems so far, and I can't wait to read more of them, but I can't take full credit for the prompt lol. @nyx-tenberis is the person who suggested it!

[picklemafia]

Wonderful poem! Incredibly well-written! Thank you so much for participating! @cassiopeia-rising

A Knife Held

A knife, held by your hand, Hidden from sight, but the weight still felt. Secrets buried along with my corpse, Murmurs of conflict rise from above. Scars linger wherever you cut.

Sharp or jagged—the scars will remain, Like greed consumes, blood will drown. A knife—only a weapon, When wielded by your hand.

Did you pause before the strike? Did you hesitate when trust lingered? Did you savor the silence before the wound? Did the silence comfort you more than the sting of betrayal?

The blade bears no enmity— Its steel is silent, but the edge runs red. It's the hand that holds, that carves the wound.

Now in darkness I lie, Yet the weight still lingers— The burn of silver will fade, But the weight of trust will suffer—

A wound carved by your hand, and mine.

For the one-word prompt 🔪KNIFE🔪, courtesy of @nyx-tenberis and hosted by @picklemafia.

[picklemafia]

Fantastic poem! I really like the butter knife reference. Butter knives, dulled over time, but blunt knives don't cut, they tear. That damage over time can sometimes be worse. Great work! Thank you so much for participating! @bluemoonpoetry9

based on another prompt ‘knife’ thanks to @picklemafia and @nyx-tenberis

*TW profanity*

[picklemafia]

This was such a beautiful poem, I absolutely loved it! As a southern man in the north, it even gave me a little glimpse of home. Absolutely beautiful tribute to your mother, and a fantastic use of the prompt! Thank you so much for participating! @jazzisthejester

knife / one word prompt @picklemafia

my mama used to say closing a knife you didn’t open was bad luck. she was real superstitious. picked it up from her mama, who got it from her daddy, so on and so on.

stuff like that sticks in families, same way a southern drawl does. trickling down without you even askin’. like old tarnished jewelry or small town secrets.

she had a list of rules:

don’t rock an empty chair,

don’t sweep over someone’s feet,

don’t split the pole when you’re walking.

she believed in signs, in dreams, in things that warned you. she believed in staying safe, even if it meant being scared.

but mama’s gone now. her knives are still open. and i can’t bring myself to close them. not ‘cause i’m scared. not even ‘cause i believe. just ‘cause they were hers.

and maybe, some part of me thinks she’ll come back and do it herself.

[picklemafia]

That is a fantastic poem! Wonderful tribute to your mother and wonderful usage of the prompt! Thank you so much for participating! @letters-to-dreamers

My mom needed a new knife

One that wasn’t dull or had its color faded

We tried to tell her to buy herself new knives

Left money for her to find

But she wouldn’t let go of her tiny fruit knife

“Its still got life in her,” she would say

At the time I didn’t understand

But now I know that she saw herself in that little knife

Time had worn her down

But no amount of years could ever make her useless

As long as she had life

Submission for the prompt “knife”

@nyx-tenberis

@picklemafia

[picklemafia]

Absolutely beautiful poem! Incredible work! So sad. Thank you so much for participating, and thank you again for the prompt! @nyx-tenberis

Final moment?

She doesn't deserve to live.

Facade, manipulation, lies, fake warmth.

After all this—

How can she ask to be forgived?

She deserves to live.

Assault, suppression, abuse, trauma.

After all this—

Doesn't she deserve to be forgived?

I stand in front of the mirror,

Ready to become my own reaper.

I look down at my trembling wrist,

Holding the knife tightly in my fist.

She is a liar.

She knows all the evil deeds he did.

Still—she lied to her own mother,

Never once lifting the lid.

She is a protector.

How could she tell her those deeds?

She was just a young kid.

Wearing silence like a second skin,

A foreign poison—she holds it within.

As the cold silver metal touched my skin, I flinch.

Why?—wasn't I ready to pay back for my sin?

I look back up at that girl in the mirror,

Holding her gaze—

In one glance, it feels like she wants to live.

In the next, it seems she just wants to give in.

My thoughts becoming haze.

Writer's Note~ hello! This is my poem "final moment?" My first ever attempt at a dramatic monologue poem.. pls share your thoughts on this.. and thank you @max-the-commander and @brontesinferno for helping me, also my submission for the prompt "knife" hosted by @picklemafia ^~^..

[picklemafia]

We write the words that would break us if we spoke them aloud.

[picklemafia]

The Day We Both Died

Decided to write a small short story, about an experience years ago, but my mind won't stop trying to phrase everything in a poetic way. Bad mind, chill.

Anyway, TW's for a lot of things. Fun/bad times ahead.

“She killed herself because of you!” he screamed at my face. His words cut me deeper than any knife ever could. I looked down to see your blood on my hands. Your own father spat daggers into me, thunderous rage in his voice, and I had your blood on my hands. 

My thoughts and emotions were a jumbled mess; regret, fear, despair, self hatred, suicide, alcohol, my pistol, among many more. I actually muttered an apology to your father, I remember that well. Two words, but they meant far more than simply two words in that moment. My feet took me toward the door, I didn’t know where they might lead me after that. I knew I only wanted to be with you in that moment. I wished to shake off the guilt and this skin so I could share an eternity with you, whispering apologies into your ear.

 I almost didn’t see you standing there, with such a wide, beautiful, sickening smile. Such a radiant, bright smile. It cut through the darkness in my world with such ease, on most days. I remember your beautiful smile hurt me that day. You were my sun, and you used to cut through my darkness. That day your bright smile revealed only lies with its light. Shock compounded, quickly replaced by rage, I tore into both you and your father.

You said you just wanted to see if I really loved you. I did. I really did love you. You were the greatest love of my life. My sun and my moon. It was all replaced by hatred too quickly, in too short a moment. 

You killed something in me that day. The very thing you breathed life into. Before you came into my life, I only half existed. Whatever zest for living I might have once had in my youth was replaced by a deep understanding of the darkness in this world. With you, I lived. I felt as though I fully existed here and within myself among the days we shared. There was no more darkness in my world. That was long ago.

That thing within me, both my truest self and a profoundly pleasant tall-tale I tell myself to illicit concocted feelings of hope, died the day you did. The blood on my hands turned out to be my own.

- J.Lamana

© 2025 picklemafia/J.Lamana | Reposting on this platform is permitted with proper credit. Reposting on other platforms is not allowed. No edits. All rights reserved.

[picklemafia]

Fantastic work! I loved your poem, it pulled me in the entire time, like a good novel! Also happens to be one of the longest submissions we've had yet lol. Thank you so much for participating! @nara2032

LIES IN THE RAIN.

[my submission for “knife” @nyx-tenberis @picklemafia ]

Once there was a sword, sharp and true

Wielded by a heart both bold and blue

Soul, driven by vengeance, fierce and cold

“I will hunt down” brother’s blood foretold

I hated you with all my heart

For the life you took, for the pain you start

You, a devil, a creature of night

Your shadow a terror, your gaze a blight

But here you stand offering me a choice

A sword in my hand, your steady voice

“Learn it well, soul, i’ll teach it true”

“And with this blade, I’ll fall to you”

“My life is yours, but understand

In the end, it’s my heart and your hand”

I swore to kill, to end your reign

I swore to be, to break the chain

I’ll make you feel the weight of pain

I’ll pierce your heart, I’ll watch you rain

I’ll find the peace, when your blood drains

But as days passed, I seemed to see

You’re not the devil you seemed to be

Not evil by nature, nor lost to greed

But a devil bound by a darker seed

With each strike, a lesson to learn

I saw you not as the foe I’d burn

But rather a being lost in it’s fight

You’re seeking the end, yet seeking the light?

You saved me once, when darkness took hold

You held me tight, you warmed up the cold

And whispered softly “I’ve been there through

The loss of control…….that battle is true”

“Soul, I know the pain, it lives in me too”

In that moment you were no longer a foe

But a brother I never thought I’d know

We fought together, side by side

Two broken souls, no longer denied

But fate, fate, I hate that word

That miserable night, I held that sword

It always had plans of it’s own

A choice now lies where blood is swon

To save all we loved, to end the strife

One of us must give up his life

Tears filled my eyes as I drew the sword

I whispered trembling, my voice ignored

“Is this the end? Do we have a choice?”

“Must I silence you…..my dearest voice?”

You smiled then, your smile said “no”

You looked at me, your eyes just flow

And so I stood, with sword in hand

Knowing the weight of this final stand

With a shattered heart, I raised the blade

And the vow i owed you, I obeyed

No anger, no fear, no sadness on your face

You’re still…….you fell, silent, in grace

Said “Please don’t die” promise me flame

“I won’t seek death” swear on my name

“My life Is yours” was that disdain?

How dare you come back in the rain?

How dare you leave a soul in pain?

Why do my hands have your blood stains?

You told me that to ease my plea

You lied again, you lied to me

Your essence faded, yet you’re still there

The crimson dust that filled the air

I saw you smile, as you slipped away

A red-ful smile to end the day

Your body was gone, yet your soul stayed

The pouring rain, the memories played

No longer a devil, no longer a foe

A liar I loved, a liar I know

And though you’re gone, a part of you stayed

In the heart of the soul you helped create

We were both lost, both searching for peace

And in the end, all the hate ceased

For in your smile, I saw a truth

That we were the same, lost souls with shared youth

As the crimson dust went up to the sky

I whispered to you “we lived, we tried”

A liar, a devil, that broke the chain

A beautiful sky, for days cried rain

Your blossom is here, protecting your stain

The end of it all did not go in vain

The loss, the gain, the pleasure, the pain

I’ll tell you about it, when I see you again

-Nara’s Lines

———————————————————————

Original poem by me. Nara.

[picklemafia]

Fantastic little poem! Great work! Thank you so much for participating! @ohlookroses

say

it

again

get the knife

now give me your thumb

we are blood-one drop seals the deal

-r

6/23/25

@picklemafia one word poetry prompts #knife