Heartfelt Father's Day Poems to Celebrate Dad
- Ken Kalis
- Jun 11
- 10 min read
GOOD THINGS ABOUT MY DAD
By Ken Kalis
1. He was a constant presence in my life.
2. He loved my mother.
3. He was interested in history, biography and current events.
4. He loved America.
5. He was always well-dressed – white shirts always.
read 23 more at the end of this article!
My Dad is Rudolph Kalis, 1901-1975. The father son relationship is eternal.
He gave me his name, and I honor it and him today, with this blog, and with my life:
Your Name
You got it from your father,
t'was the best he had to give,
And right gladly he bestowed it
It's yours, the while you live.
You may lose the watch he gave you
and another you may claim,
But remember, when you're tempted,
to be careful of his name.
It was fair the day you got it,
and a worthy name to bear,
When he took it from his father
there was no dishonor there.
Through the years he proudly wore it,
to his father he was true,
And that name was clean and spotless
when he passed it on to you.
Oh there's much that he has given
that he values not at all,
He has watched you break your playthings
in the days when you were small.
You have lost the knife he gave you
and you've scattered many a game,
But you'll never hurt your father
if you're careful with his name.
It is yours to wear forever,
yours to wear the while you live,
Yours, perhaps some distant morn,
another boy to give.
And you'll smile as did your father,
with a smile that all can share,
If a clean name and a good name
you are giving him to wear.
- Edgar A. Guest (1881-1959)
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My Dad too fed into my mind his favorite bits of humorous verse:
Tobacco, - Tobacco is a filthy weed
And from the Devil doth proceed.
It stains your fingers, burns your clothes
And makes a chimney of your nose!
Peanut Butter; - A peanut sat on the railroad track,
His heart was all a-flutter.
Along came engine Number 9;
Toot, toot! Peanut Butter!
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Dad taught me serious stuff too, like how to deal with death, when my Grandpa Posta died in 1954. This poem was printed on the memorial card Dad used at the funeral service
Crossing the Bar
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.
by Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)
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He taught us more serious things too, like this favorite poem of his:
Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God from "Poems the Pastor Loved"
From prayer that asks that I may be
Sheltered from winds that beat on Thee,
From fearing when I should aspire,
From faltering when I should climb higher,
From silken self, O Captain, free
Thy soldier who would follow Thee.
From subtle love of softening things,
From easy choices, weakenings,
(Not thus are spirits fortified;
Not this way went the Crucified.)
From all that dims Thy Calvary,
O Lamb of God, deliver me.
Give me the love that leads the way,
The faith that nothing can dismay,
The hope no disappointments tire,
The passion that will burn like fire;
Let me not sink to be a clod:
Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God
~~Amy Carmichael (1867-1951)
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Only a Dad
Only a dad with a tired face,
Coming home from the daily race,
Bringing little of gold or fame
To show how well he has played the game;
But glad in his heart that his own rejoice
To see him come and to hear his voice.
Only a dad with a brood of four,
One of ten million men or more
Plodding along in the daily strife,
Bearing the whips and the scorns of life,
With never a whimper of pain or hate,
For the sake of those who at home await.
Only a dad, neither rich nor proud,
Merely one of the surging crowd
Toiling, striving from day to day,
Facing whatever may come his way,
Silent whenever the harsh condemn,
And bearing it all for the love of them.
Only a dad but he gives his all
To smooth the way for his children small,
Doing with courage stern and grim,
The deeds that his father did for him.
This is the line that for him I pen:
Only a dad, but the best of men.
- Edgar A. Guest (1881-1959)
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Dad taught us all to be men of integrity, as well as the fear of the Lord. Around the time this photo was taken, he quipped: "I have 3 sons, a clergyman, a business man, and a screwball."
He said that with love and was always glad to see me, although I wasn't yet as mature as my older brothers.
The poem that follows is long and captures my father's spirit and love. Read it all. Once today and again tomorrow, and you will see my Dad as I did.
my father moved through dooms of love
my father moved through dooms of love
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height
this motionless forgetful where
turned at his glance to shining here;
that if(so timid air is firm)
under his eyes would stir and squirm (Dad had flashingly bright, blue eyes. kk)
newly as from unburied which
floats the first who, his april touch
drove sleeping selves to swarm their fates
woke dreamers to their ghostly roots
and should some why completely weep
my father's fingers brought her sleep:
vainly no smallest voice might cry
for he could feel the mountains grow.
Lifting the valleys of the sea
my father moved through griefs of joy;
praising a forehead he called the moon
singing desire into begin
joy was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer
and pure so now and now so yes
the wrists of twilight would rejoice
keen as midsummer's keen beyond
conceiving mind of sun will stand,
so strictly(over utmost him
so hugely)stood my father's dream
his flesh was flesh his blood was blood:
no hungry man but wished him food;
no cripple wouldn't creep one mile
uphill to only see him smile.
Scorning the pomp of must and shall
my father moved through dooms of feel;
his anger was as right as rain
his pity was as green as grain
septembering arms of year extend
less humbly wealth to foe and friend
than he to foolish and to wise
offered immeasurable is
proudly and(by octobering flame
beckoned)as earth will downward climb,
so naked for immortal work (Immortal work = Dad’s life work- kk)
his shoulders marched against the dark
his sorrow was as true as bread:
no liar looked him in the head;
if every friend became his foe
he'd laugh and build a world with snow.
My father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing) ( especially “Whispering Hope” Methodist version! Kk)
then let men kill which cannot share,
let blood and flesh be mud and mire,
scheming imagine,passion willed,
freedom a drug that's bought and sold
giving to steal and cruel kind,
a heart to fear,to doubt a mind,
to differ a disease of same,
conform the pinnacle of am
though dull were all we taste as bright,
bitter all utterly things sweet,
maggoty minus and dumb death
all we inherit,all bequeath
and nothing quite so least as truth
—i say though hate were why man breathe—
because my father lived his soul
love is the whole and more than all and still is so even on earth as it is in heaven.
e.e. cummings (1894-1962)
Whispering Hope
Like the faint dawn of the morning,
Like the sweet freshness of dew,
Comes the dear whisper of Jesus,
Comforting, tender and true.
Darkness gives way to the sunlight,
While His voice falls on my ear;
Seasons of heaven’s refreshing,
Call to new gladness and cheer.
Chorus
Whispering hope, like the song of the angels!
Jesus, Thy love is sweet music to me!
Singing the song of forgiveness, softly I hear in my soul
Jesus has conquered forever sin with its fearful control.
Whispering courage for warfare, bending Thine ear when I pray,
Glorious risen Redeemer! O how I praise Thee today!
Hope is an anchor to keep us, holding both stedfast and sure.
Hope is a wonderful cleansing through the blood making us pure.
Whispering hope of His coming, how my heart thrills at this word!
O to be watching and waiting, ready to meet our dear Lord!
For many years I thought my Dad had written this, hence the memory below. I uncovered the Cokesberry text years later in the Methodist Church at Brant Lake, NY.
The rest was found in Rudolph Kalis’s hand in his personal copy of “Songs Everybody Loves.” The last line of the chorus too, has been changed from “Making my heart in its sorrow rejoice.” I don’t know if my Dad wrote this or “stole” it from somewhere. It’s been a great blessing in any case. In a little “God-wink” here, the recording is 6:58 long; 658 Monroe Avenue was our home in Elizabeth, NJ which Dad and Mom bought in 1936 and where he lived until he went to be with Jesus.
Dad was proud of the fact that he was "a one-woman man," and taught his sons to be so too. He loved Anna Posta with all his heart, falling in love with her while she was still in high school. When he first saw her he told his brother, "Henry, I am going to marry that girl,"
and he did in 1929, took her to Elizabeth, NJ and got her a house they whared until his death in 1975 and she until she went to be with Jesus in 1992.
When I met my wife Claudia, I said he didn't leave us much when he died. She said, "He loved your mother, raised three young man and made a home for you all of you lives. That is a wonderful life." Amen.
I was on the phone with Dad 30 minutes before he went to be with Jesus. Mom found him on the floor of his "belovèd" room at 658 Monroe Avenue, Elizabeth, NJ, the Capital if the World, he liked to call it. I miss him every day, and walk in his example and light. during his last few months, when he made an increasingly rare appearance in church, we would sing this song. I can still hear him singing, although he has reached "the end of the way."
WHEN I GET TO THE END OF THE WAY
The sands have been washed in the footprints
Of the Stranger on Galilee’s shore;
And the voice that subdued the rough billows
Will be heard in Judea no more,
But the path of that lone Galilean,
With joy I will follow today,
Refrain
And the toils of the road will seem nothing
When I get to the end of the way,
The toils of the road will seem nothing
When I get to the end of the way.
There are so many hills to climb upward,
I often am longing for rest;
But He who appoints me my pathway,
Knows just what is needful and best.
I know in His Word He hath promised
That my strength it shall be as my day;
Refrain
He loves me too well to forsake me,
Or give me a trial too much;
His people have been dearly purchased,
And Satan can never claim such.
By and by I shall see Him and praise Him,
In the city of unending day;
Refrain
When the last feeble steps have been taken,
And the gates of that city appear,
And the beautiful songs of the angels
Float out on my listening ear;
When all that now seems so mysterious,
Will be bright and as clear as the day,
And the toils of the road will seem nothing
When I get to the end of the way,
Then the toils of the road will seem nothing
When I get to the end of the way.
Words & Music: Charles D. Till¬man, 1895
Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat: Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it. Matthew 7:13-14
My Father's Globe
Each night before I go to bed
My father’s globe I light;
Its oceans a soft blue light shed
Upon the falling night.
Just like they did in his old room
So many years ago.
How sweet those old reflections loom
Missing him here below.
And just before I put it out
I think of him once more,
Of walking with him all about
Our old home town of yore.
Good night, dear Dad! I pull the chain.
The world goes dark; old loves remain.
- Ken Kalis, Memorial Day, May 27, 2013
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Good thing about My Dad
By Ken Kalis
1. He was a constant presence in my life.
2. He loved my mother.
3. He was interested in history, biography and current events.
4. He loved America.
5. He was always well-dressed – white shirts always.
6. He approached things with enthusiasm.
7. He prayed a lot.
8. He read me many stories.
9. He followed baseball.
10. He was diligent about his work.
11. He cared about others.
12. He was kind to the poor.
13. He loved to sing gospel hymns.
14. He loved to read the Bible.
15. He loved me and prayed for me.
16. He listened to me – particularly in later years.
17. He wrote me letters and put money inside.
18. He was frugal.
19. He often cooked and washed dishes.
20. He liked to get things done right away.
21. He was a good preacher.
22. He was emotionally sensitive.
23. He was always for the underdog.
24. He liked soda, ice cream and cold cuts.
25. He loved milk, strawberries and fruit salad.
26. He made great potato pancakes.
27. He loved people and cared about their souls.
28. He always give me a little money – every day.
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