Genevieve (Gellatly) Forsythe 

Littleton, CO, USA 

 
 

I began writing poetry in the eighth grade for English Literature assignments. This created a channel through which I have been able to empty my heart of its aches, my mind of happy and sad memories, and to stimulate my spirit to venture out into the big, beautiful world around me; so that my faith might dwell on God's promises. I taught primary grades for twenty-eight years. I have been published in Children's Activities magazine and by The National Library of Poetry. I am currently working on a collection of religious poetry and one of miscellaneous poems for family and friends.

 

Field of Dreams

The "field of dreams," everyone has one, 
Baseball player, farmers, migrant workers, too, 
Starlets and gamblers--all wanting to pursue, 
The field of dreams, a magic sport, 
Where each one becomes a star, 
A brief moment of glory, voted the most  
popular. 

The sun always shining on "the field of dreams," 
The sky ever cloudless and rich blue, 
The grass emerald green--the neon lights shine, 
Gold, silver, or colors of every hue. 

The "star" is glamorous in a bouffant dress, 
Studded with rhinestones or pearls, 
Or dressed in a Yankee Uniform--maybe 
The Royals, Cincinnati Reds, or Cardinals. 

The gambler bets on horses, dogs, or games, 
Betting more then the assets he own, 
Hoping to hit a jackpot or lottery, 
To buy a millionaire's home. 

Yes, everyone has their "field of dreams," 
Be the "field" large or small, 
Just once in our lifetime, we hope to be, 
The lucky "grand winner" of it all.

Rich in the Love of Jesus

My clothes are old, patched, and worn, 
The soles of my shoes are thin, 
My pockets have holes and are empty, 
And I know I'm guilty of sin. 

I'm homeless and wander from street to street, 
Looking for work but never find, 
If I'm lucky, I sleep in a shelter at night, 
And eat the "hand out" of people kind. 

No one I know is immune from suffering, 
When we have needs or abused, God sees us-- 
I know my prayers are heard and answered, 
I'm rich in the love of Jesus. 

The path of life on earth is rough, 
Temptations and guilt never leave us, 
Treasures of gold or jewels, I have not-- 
But, I'm rich in the love of Jesus.

Joy--First Edition

Hello, Mr. Robin, I see you there 
Perched on the branch of the old maple tree 
Searching the garden with beady black eyes 
A fat, wiggly, red angleworm to see. 

I wonder where you have hidden your nest 
Is Mother Robin keeping her blue eggs warm-- 
As you search for your breakfast this bright Spring day 
After yesterday's torrential rain storm? 

Mr. Robin Redbreast, with your gay song 
Joyous heralder of the early Spring-- 
You fill my heart with great expectations 
While gleeful bells of nature clearly ring!

All poems Copyright © 1998 Genevieve (Gellatly) Forsythe. All rights reserved.