Deborah Filanowski was raised and educated in West Virginia, adulted in PA. Plan B Press published her chapbook "...and guppies eat their young" in 2001, 2003 and 2011, and she has published in The Write Launch in 2022, Aphelion, and PPS Winning Poets, in 2021 and 2022. After a career as a substance abuse counselor and manager, she returned to writing poetry and participates in weekly workshops with poet, Craig Czury.
“Where are Tolkien’s Ents?”
There is an army of ghost trees ringing the coastlines of the world.
Once verdant, evidence of a healthy environment,
now leafless, bleached white in death,
phantoms of the forest that once was.
Once verdant, evidence of a healthy environment,
now leafless, bleached white in death,
phantoms of the forest that once was.
Poetry
Winter 2024: Climate Crisis
“Cousins,” “Origins” and “Lurking”
Crickets signal the need for sacrifice,
a thanks for good harvest,
appeasement for the war gods of winter.
The frost is overdue.
Near the end of October,
the mosquitoes hum and bite
as I still sit on the front porch.
Poetry
Issue 59
Deborah Filanowski
Deborah Filanowski was raised and educated in West Virginia, adulted in PA. Plan B Press published her chapbook "...and guppies eat their young" in 2001, 2003 and 2011, and she has published in The Write Launch in 2022, Aphelion, and PPS Winning Poets, in 2021 and 2022. After a career as a substance abuse counselor and manager, she returned to writing poetry and participates in weekly workshops with poet, Craig Czury.
“Where are Tolkien’s Ents?”
There is an army of ghost trees ringing the coastlines of the world.
Once verdant, evidence of a healthy environment,
now leafless, bleached white in death,
phantoms of the forest that once was.
Once verdant, evidence of a healthy environment,
now leafless, bleached white in death,
phantoms of the forest that once was.
Poetry
Winter 2024: Climate Crisis
“Cousins,” “Origins” and “Lurking”
Crickets signal the need for sacrifice,
a thanks for good harvest,
appeasement for the war gods of winter.
The frost is overdue.
Near the end of October,
the mosquitoes hum and bite
as I still sit on the front porch.
Poetry
Issue 59