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Tag: Poems

A collection of poems by Joan Cassidy Vayo (1930-2019).

1979 Joan Vayo at writing desk Joan Vayo

A lyric poet, Joan (aka Mom) wrote poetry from her grade school years until just before her death at age 89.

Her work was published in Seventeen magazine, Yankee, America, and others. She self-published a collection of her poetry, titled when in the rain a snow.

Family blog posts tagged with Poems include her poems, plus writing from a few other family members.

‘Did You Ever Bump A Pumpkin?’

‘Did You Ever Bump A Pumpkin?’

Have you seen those videos on social media showing animals (both in zoos and in the wild) wolfing down pumpkins? Living on a farm, I can’t help but chuckle. The great pumpkins-are-edible discovery is akin to children realizing milk doesn’t “come from” grocery stores, but moo cows. Pumpkins, it turns out, don’t just magically transform into pies, over-salted packages of seeds, and Starbucks coffee flavorings. Livestock and wildlife figured this out long ago: Pumpkins – raw pumpkins – are delicious!…

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‘The Wonderful World of Downstairs’

‘The Wonderful World of Downstairs’

Today is the 25th of the month. It’s Christmas in October, did you catch it? Here’s a poem (a song, actually) that Mom wrote in April of 1957. Harry was nearly two and Dave just a month old. How Mom had time to think, much less create such a sweet lullaby, is truly beyond me! The Wonderful World of Downstairs The wonderful world of downstairshas ice cream every day;The wonderful world of downstairs is where my animals play. I will…

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‘The Whitewashed Ghost’

‘The Whitewashed Ghost’

My mom loves Halloween. Pumpkins, gourds, cider, witches, black cats, and the occasional ghost, of course. She loves it all! Mom also loves children’s books. She wrote this Halloween story – featuring a witch called Grantie Grackle – back in the mid-1960s. My oldest brother, Harry, collaborated as her illustrator back when he was just 10 years old. Three decades later, Mom made copies of “The Whitewashed Ghost” and shared them with her increasing number of grandchildren. With her permission…

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The typewriter

The typewriter

Carefully sorting through the precious photos from Mom and Dad’s past, I’ve come across a stack of tiny prints from 1953. Dad confirms that they were photos Mom sent to him while he was serving in the Army overseas. They are nothing short of charming, as Mom added a tiny note to each. Dad brought them home from Korea and saved them all these years. The newlyweds must have missed each other desperately. There was no Internet or mobile-phone service…

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