White Rabbit Poetry Society: Poetry

The Last Light Beside the Graves

A Writer’s Voice — Tue, 17 Mar 2026 18:00:13 GMT

Photo by freestocks on Unsplash

The Last Light Beside the Graves

By Christian Feliciano

(A Writer’s Voice)

The sun goes down across a vacant field,

its copper eye half buried in the trees.

Light spreads in strips the thinning day can yield,

a final ledger kept among the leaves.

Beyond the grass lie rows of measured stone,

each name a century folded into lime.

No voice survives the body’s overthrow,

yet earth keeps count of every ruined time.

I stand where day loosens its burning thread,

the sky still bright with what it cannot keep.

The field extends like memory of the dead,

wide, stubborn, deeper than the reach of sleep.

The sun is almost gone. Still, something stains the air,

as if the world remembers who was there.

Prompt

White Rabbit Poetry Society

Seedlings/Poetry Prompt

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3 months ago · 5 likes · 3 comments · A Writer’s Voice

The Art of the Thaw

Dorie Snow/雪多丽 — Wed, 25 Feb 2026 14:03:31 GMT

Photo by Gary Meulemans on Unsplash

The Art of the Thaw

Poem I

The absence of you the winter night —

the memories the blaze that keeps my heart warm

The hollow where your laughter lived —

the echo that still finds me in the quiet

The cold that settled in my bones —

the fire I learned to tend with my own hands

The long season of your name on my lips —

the way it rises in me now like smoke

The frozen ground that forgot tenderness —

the first thaw that remembered it for me

The winter I almost let it all go dark —

the light that had no business still burning

Poem II

grief, winter’s blanket

memories spring flowers bloom

she lives in the thaw

Poem III

Blossoms

dormant in winter

sorrow, the maple’s sap

divine timing waits in darkness

for spring

Poem IV

this blanket of snow I wear

a bandage

that I slowly peel

after battle

beneath it

raw earth

tender wound

gasping breath

in stillness

holding everything in

the way of a mother

who knows what is coming

the symphony of

splitting seeds

singing harmony

with water coursing

through my veins

sap does not ask

if it is time

it simply rises

through the cracked and broken

I have held everything

in the cold

the grief the joy the becoming

pressed against my breasts

now the stone softens

now the water moves

now the thing I buried in myself

take the stage again

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Note from the Editor:

White Rabbit Poetry Society is thrilled to present this collection by . Bear was kind enough to create all four poems from our Spring Essance Prompt. Thank you Bear for being our first poet published on our publication.

White Rabbit Poetry Society

Spring in Essence

Spring in Essance…

4 months ago · 16 likes · Dorie Snow/雪多丽

We are so grateful you are here. Please leave a message if you are inspired. We would love to see what you write. The White Rabbit Poetry Society is a place to find some inspiration and friends. Don’t be shy, add links to your poetry!

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Fractured Light

Dorie Snow/雪多丽 — Fri, 06 Feb 2026 14:22:33 GMT

Photo by Stephan Liedtke on Unsplash