Christmas 1947

Of the past I oft remember,
though at times it was not great.
Very soft, I tread the memory.
Was it a school or was it fate?
Hard the chore to put together.
Puzzle pieces now I see.
Seven children seldom settled.
Next to last included me.
We were poor and pressed survival.
To make it through there was no line.
Many days we were not certain, but
Tomorrow for us the sun would shine.
Looking back the picture’s faded.
Most of life was somehow jaded.
Once in a while I see a glimmer,
Nine in all as I remember.
Pressing hard to find survival,
Every thing seemed a rival.
Times and places are sometimes scrambled.
Recollection is somewhat rambled.
But now and then I catch a memory
Of a bleak time, not just penury.
Although getting past was an endless struggle,
And pondering it long my mind would boggle.
Tomorrow did come, with God’s great blessing
In spite of hard times, need, and its dressing.
Our greatest Christmas was in forty-seven.
We were all together and it was like heaven.
Chicken and ham and lots of the other,
All of us seven and father and mother.
Our oldest sister and her husband
Brought their baby.
She was a treat
And I don’t mean maybe.
Of that special time, I oft remember
I believe it was our best December.

Margaret Inez Bates

Seven Children

Seven children, seemed unneeded,
Caught in fates sucking sound,
Running, moving, seldom settled,
Never planted on the ground.
Could it be that we were special,
Treasures each a priceless jewel,
Was our family just a school?
Yes, I believe families are special.
Within life dramas thus unfolds.
Although it passes our attention,
Through each part a storys told.
Listen close, the curtain is rising.
Once only a chance arrives.
Let’s remember this one statement.
Family only by love survives.
So we’ll press on in spite of turmoil,
Hurting or come what may,
Let’s hold firm onto each other,
Knowing it is worth the price we pay.
Without a doubt we all are precious,
Matchless no one can compare,
Forever we will be united and agree
Cause we were there.

Margarett Inez Bates

My Confession Concerning My Tongue

Teach me, and I will hold my tongue: and cause me to understand wherein I have erred (Job 6:24).

Father in the Name of Jesus I make the quality decision to take control of my tongue. I renounce and therefore cancel the power of every word I have spoken against you and your operation in my life. I ask you to put a watch over my mouth. My desire is for the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart to be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer (Psalm 19:14).

Because I KNOW that out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks, I set myself to fill my heart with your word and always  to speak in line with YOUR Word. Father, as Your child, I confess that I am healed – I am filled with your mighty Holy Spirit.  I am the righteousness of God in Christ Jesus. I am victorious in every area of my life (Romans 4:17b). God, who quickeneth the dead, and calleth those things which be not as though they were.

Father, I thank you for helping me not to be double-minded. I set myself to be in line with  the Word of God. I choose  to let the word of Christ dwell in me richly in all wisdom; teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in our hearts to the Lord (Colossians 3:16).

Truth Was Obscure

I had no clue
I was running scared.
For the impending future
I was not prepared.
With only perception
To rule my fate,
I kept taking the same picture,
Unaware of the date.
Deception was in progress.
Truth was obscure.
Just making it was painful.
It was hard to endure.
Then came the test
To check my enlightenment.
Could there be?
Is there an indictment?
While caught in the midst
Of this awkward intrusion,
I ponder the need
Of some deliberate seclusion.
As I moved away
From the prevalent infusion
I became aware of another
Was then that I caught
A glimpse of salvation:
Freedom from all sin
Without reservation.
As I lifted my head
To an upward direction
It became clear
I must make another selection.
“Choose this day whom you will serve.”

Margarett Inez Bates

Remember The Constitution

We set amidst a conglomeration
Of influence, chaos, and onsets
Transposed by the mingled
And confused hodgepodge
Of lies and deceit
And the importing of a constant mix
Of turmoil and exasperation
Yet many seem to be oblivious
Of our condition,
Let alone the cause,
The truth is
We are caught in between
Compromise and inquisition
As a whole We are numb,
We are baffled
But totally unaware
Of our condition
We have no clue.
Any other being
Would be beating
Their head against a wall.
But instead “We The People”
Have surrendered to temporary relief.
A technical fix.
What will it take to wake us up?
What will we do when we discover
The problem is within us.
Because we had no standard
We have lost our moral compass?
For Sure
A gross distortion has occurred.
Why, are we not concerned,
In spite of the fact
That some terrible
History is about to repeat itself, in spades.
Could it be that: disfranchisement
and disenchantment?
Has caused an attitude of apathy?
Are we glued to our own perceptions?
Do we hear ourselves saying,
“Let someone else do it”?
Do we not know that: mutiny is change?
It’s a physical revolt
It’s rebellion.
We must continually remind ourselves
That America is a Republic.
Our government is based on Law.
Remember – The Constitution.
Better yet, why not read it?

Margarett Inez Bates

The Truth Will Find Its Release

That dog won’t hunt;
But a pigeon will fly.
And the voice will speak;
What it sees with the eye.
The day of reckoning is about to come.
We’re no longer caught
By the tongue of the dumb.
The phone is in the hand,
And The finger doth speak.
It’s a new season and it’s a new day.
Things are gonna change;
That’s what we say.
Passing the buck is going to cease.
The truth will find its release.

Margarett Inez Bates

An American Poet

A Little Girl once held at bay
Received a call to a brighter day.
A gift was given, and received
Though hard to fathom, much less believe
No qualifications for the chore
Just a gentle nudge and an open door
Once she entered light did come
Sometimes to the point, it seemed to numb.
The flow of words always in Rhyme
Would come then linger at anytime.
She learned to capture each given thought
Each snapped picture or whatnot.
Once on paper a book would form,
And possibly prevent an unknown storm
Or maybe comfort some grieving soul
Or who knows the final toll.
That little girl is me,
Margarett Inez Bates