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kukla fran ollie

This is a photo of Fran and her puppets from KuKla, Fran and Ollie.

My sisters and I went to the Don McNeil Breakfast club show, in 1949. That’s the show KuKla, Fran, and Ollie got their start on. We met several of the cast members by being called upon, because of this poem and the one posted tomorrow. Don came down from the stage, and had us read the poems I had written. Here’s the poem I read, on the radio. Please note, this was also written in 1949.

To bed at ten – a restless night
Up at four – our heads are light
Ready at five – to train by six
So excited – act like hicks
Chicago by seven – Opera House at last
Now to see that wonderful cast
So here we are, and you can’t match our rage
We’re so darn far back, we can’t see the stage

Aug.1, ‘49 Phyllis VanVleck

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JACK’S REVELATION

The children stood upon the stage
Each holding words upon a page
In turn they read a line or two
On what their Daddy’s always do

Dads fought crime, and Dads fought fires
One farmed land, and one sold tires
Jack was nervous when his turn came
And couldn’t remember his own name

Poor Jack’s courage was almost gone
So the congregation clapped him on
But he’d lost the paper that he had
So the Preacher prodded the little lad

What does your Dad do every day?
Jack thought a bit on what to say
Then the little boy in Sunday clothes
Yelled out, “My Daddy picks his nose!”

His dad, embarrassed, hid his face
And wished he was some other place,
When Jack, who then became alert,
Called out, “And wipes it on his shirt!”

5/1/00 Phyllis DeWitt -VanVleck

1’st … Arkansas NPD – 2000

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     HER PARENTHESES

 

The weeping willow is her world

Where boughs form a room.

The golden coins scattered about

Are dandelions in bloom.

As I peer through curtained window

She’s lost in make-believe,

And I watch in fascination,

The stories she can weave.

With dolls and toys as audience,

She acts upon a stage,

Fulfilling all the sweet dreams

Expected of her age.

Just now, she’s Cinderella

Dancing at the ball,

As she wears my old satin gown,

And heels to make her tall.

But soon she is a Fairy Queen

With sequined wings of blue.

As she waves a small magic wand

Her wishes all come true.

And next she transforms to a Bride,

Who’s dressed with greatest care,

With curtain as a bridal veil,

And flowers in her hair.

Once again she changes modes

And breaks into sweet song,

Pretending she’s a great chanteus,                       

But it doesn’t last too long,

For now she is a perfect Mom.

With motherly concern,

She feeds her dolls and beds them down,

With a kiss for each in turn.

I’m quite engrossed in her pretense                     

As I watch her fantasize,

But scenes are quick to fade from sight,

When tears caress my eyes.

I wipe my eyes for better view

Of her parentheses,

And I am saddened then to find,

It’s all just memories. 

 

2/22/96        Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

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