Janet Cannon

Janet Cannon Poems

Janet Cannon Biography

Janet Cannon is from the Boston area originally, but she has lived in Manhattan, San Francisco, Taos, Tucson, and Seattle. She is a graduate of the University of Iowa where she also did graduate work. Janet Cannon has been an editor at Scholastic Books, and a technical writer and editor at several major high-tech corporations. She has taught writing and language arts at the Taos Indian Pueblo, and oral history writing workshops at the NYC Public Library- Chelsea Branch. She has also taught English as a Second Language (ESL) courses at The New School in NYC, and community colleges in New York and New Mexico. Janet’s poems have been published in many literary journals such as Berkeley Poetry Review (University of California) , The Midwest Quarterly (Pittsburgh State University) , Texas Review (Sam Houston State University) , New York Quarterly, and G.W. Review (George Washington University) —among others. She has received awards from ASCAP, the Rio Grande Writers Association, and Bless Me Anima. Janet is the author of one published full-length poetry collection The Last Night in New York (Homeward Press) , and the chapbook Percipience (Cross Cut Saw Press, now CC. Marimbo) . Janet’s chapbook Dinner for Two is a quarter finalist in the 2015 Mary Ballard Poetry Chapbook Prize. She has read her poems and performed via singing the spoken word all over the United States. Janet Cannon's Web site is: http: //www.IsleWrite.com)

The Best Poem Of Janet Cannon

Cry Of The Crocuses

in the back yard garden under
the kitchen window the crocuses

have arrived donned in deep purple
white yellow and mauve shawls they

are peeking above the moist ground
announcing spring is here quietly

inviting the change to warm day
attire like a visual telegram reminding

us that cold and insensitive time
are waning happily their bursting

blossoms like nature’s jack in the
box surprise in technicolor their petals

leafed in mortal fragility expose
floral vulnerabilities after shades of

gray days in black and white frozen
nights inside stiff-lipped months gone

temporarily making way for the
enticing passions of summer air we

forget in winter before the crocuses
cry like a love song for the season

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