(Click on The Author's Name To Read Their Poetry)

Paul Mitchell  Herb Metoyer Ada Ruth Brossette Thomas  

Poetry by Paul Mitchell


When I was asked to write something for the church's Mother's Day in Seoul, Korea (2002), my own mother spoke about how she use to cry on her pillow at night when I was young. She was telling me that it was hard being a mother sometimes, and she went to sleep many times with tears on her pillow.  When she said tears on her pillow, the Holy Spirit told me right then that I would write about Mama's pillow of tears. May God bless you all.  I dedicate this once again to my mama, Vergie Lee Trahan-Mitchell. 

 Mama's Pillow of Tears  

 © 11 May 02  Paul Mitchell Seoul, Korea


Have you ever heard your mother grieve?
Like a wailing woman at the tomb,
The sound tears at the heart,
For something must be wrong,
  And you are too young to play a part.
I recall a time, when comprehension failed to appear,
Apart from feeling something was not right,
Huddling down to be quite,
To hear the sound of tears through the night.
Sing me a lullaby mother dear,
It always makes you smile,
Silently, mother looks up and beckons me near.
Cuddling me close to her heart.
Hush child, don¡¯t you cry,
Mother is going to sing a lullaby.
And tuck you nice and tight,
Sleep my child in peace tonight.
Time fades fast away,
Years of not knowing go by,
Then one day,
The question is asked to mother
       of the reasons why.
This is what my mother had to say.
Through it all, I prayed for each of you,
Making mistakes
That seemed never few,
When the times got dark and cloudy,
And the winds blew strong,
I went to my pillow of tears,
And called up to God's Throne.
To be a stern and faithful mother,
When no one understood why I did not go,
I wanted to protect and shelter my kids from all harm,
Even now in all I know,
I desired to give you freedom
Around the safety of the nest,
But, the wind was driving you to venture far,
Therefore, I prayed that God would love you best. 
 Remember my words I use to say,
"Today is Sunday and you kids will be in
Somebody's Church Today".
Those are the words my mother still says.
I did not understand until much later,
In what my Mother was talking about,
However, I recall the lonely hours of the night,
When she called on "somebody" to help in her plight.
Sometimes my mind wonders,
And I think this way,
My mother is my angel,
Sent from God above,
Giving me everything
     in the name of love.
I can see her near the throne,
In which she made a choice,
A chosen vessel all her own,
To come in my life with a strict hand.
I hear God telling Heaven's own,
Whom will we send?
Whom will we let go?
We need a special person,
To love our child below.
The mission will not be easy,
Nor the rewards great,
There will be moments of misery,
In which it seems all is lost.
I see my mother coming forth,
With her wings stretched high,
Kneeling at the throne,
Saying, "Nevertheless, God, I will try".
My mother stretched her wings further this time,
And kneeled lower before the throne,
Saying, "I know you will not forsake me
When I feel all-alone,     
For somebody would surely come,
Sent out from your throne",
And rising, mother stood,
Not noticing her wings were gone.
But, that's not how the story ends.
For in this journey,
I found my mother's friend.
That somebody my mother was talking about,
The one who shared her pillow in the lonely hours of dark. 
For I found the owner,
In the Gospel of Mark.
And He was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a pillow: and they awake him, and say unto him, "Master, carest thou not that we perish?" 39And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, "Peace, be still."  And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.  Mark 4:38-39

When the pain of life surfaces slowly,

And raise from the depths of my soul,

Clouding my visions,

For fear to unfold.


I remember Mama,s pillow of tears

Which leads me to understand,

Regardless of the terrible wind through this journey,

I am always safe in the Master,s hand.



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My Father knew……….


Before I found her,


I was on a fantastic journey,

Traveling the earth,

A being so free,

Living without boundaries,


I had it all within my reach,

Destiny was calling me,

And I turned a deaf ear,

I had plenty of time to find my fate, 


Alas, this was my thinking before I found my help mate,


I did not know how lonely I was,

Until that chosen day,

But, my Father knew ………………….

Now I can honestly say,


When I looked in those eyes,

The world I cherished tumbled down,

There was no joy of living,

Perplexed and dismayed I drifted around,


My life was unexamined and undone,

Not worth what I thought it was,

With a new Eve on the horizon,

I vanished from my world,


But, my Father knew……..


I awoke at last from sleep,

And found life anew,

Laughter on the wind,

As Dawn opened her eyes,


A new light of day,

I now have to cherish,

In her eyes I found my way,

Yes, my Father knew…..


The world has one day a year,

To express devotions on Valentine,

But I have every day of the year,

To enjoy this woman of mine.


Yes, my Father knew it was not good that this Adam be alone (Genesis 2:18).


©5 Feb 07 Paul Mitchell


(Korean version)

나의 아버지 하나님은 알고 계셨네


그녀를 알기 전에,


나는 멋진 인생을 즐기고 있었지.

세상 이곳 저곳을 여행하면서

자유를 만끽했지.

아무런 구속 없이.


모든 것이 닿는 곳에 있었지.

운명이 나를 불렀을

나는 들으려하지 않았지.

나에게는 나의 운명을 찾아 나설

시간이 충분했었기에.


아아, 바로 이것이 내가 나의 한쪽을 찾아내기 전에 생각했던 것이라네.


나는 내가 그토록 외로운 몰랐었네.

날이 때까지.

그러나, 나의 아버지 하나님은 알고 계셨네

이제야 나는 솔직해질 있네.


눈동자를 바라보았을

내가 그토록 소중히 여기던 세상은 무너져버렸다네.

삶의 기쁨이 없었고

혼란에 빠졌으며 어쩔 줄을 몰랐다네.

나는 정처없이 헤매다녔다네.


나의 인생은  목적도 없었고 실패투성이였지.

내가 생각했던 그런 가치라고는 없는 것이었지.

멀리 수평선 위로 떠오르는 새로운 삶과 함께

나는 나의 세계로부터 멀어졌지.


그러나 나의 아버지는 알고 계셨다네


마침내 잠에서 깨어나

새로운 삶이 시작되었음을 깨달았지.

새벽이 그녀의 눈을 뜨게 했을

웃음소리가 바람을 타고 울려 퍼졌다네.


날의 빛이여,

이제 나는 소중히 여겨야만 하리라.

그녀의 눈동자 속에서 나는 나의 길을 찾았네.

그렇다, 나의 아버지 하나님은 알고 계셨네


세상은 해마다 날을 정해 발렌타인을 기념한다네.

그러나 나는 매년 매일을

나의 여인과 함께 누린다네.


그렇다네, 나의 아버지는 이사람 아담이 혼자인 것이

보기 좋지 않다는 것을 알고 계셨네(창세기 2:18).


2007 27 Paul Mitchell


Poetry by Herb Metoyer


Dying Roses....


Of all the things that

are living and be dying

To me — the death of a rose

is saddest of all.

Oh, how I do dread the smell

their silent unearthly screams....




(To My Wife upon leaving for Vietnam)


For some reason, I thought my troubles had all gone away

Now I learn that I must fight a war today

Isn’t there something that you can say

A kindly word to send me on my way

Look above my love, the blue sky is now gray


If I could change the world, surely I would

And if I did, would it do us any good

Song birds sing only because they know that they should

And I must go to battle like any good soldier would

If I were the master, I’d change things if I could


Look my Love, the sun is falling from the sky

Wild geese fly thousands of miles and never ask why

Have you seen the place where young soldiers go to die

The place where stalwart men hide in holes to cry

Where each prays the other will be the unlucky guy


And so my love I leave you, with a task and one more song

Keep my love in your heart and remember me when I’m gone

And should I be of those who never returns back home

Blame the politicians, not the Viet-Cong

Farewell, my love. My love, farewell….

© 1962 Captain Herbert Metoyer


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         The poem below was used by my father on all of his Church Bulletins for many years. I used to enjoy helping him prepare the bulletins every Saturday. He was the Pastor of two Churchs: Shiloh Baptist Church in Oakdale and Mt. Pilgrim Baptist Church in Glenmora, Louisiana. He always reminded me that the Coutees, Rachals and Metoyers were my cousins. He also used to take me to see your father, Herbert Metoyer, Sr. and to Coulterville to see his mothers only surving sister, Aunt Zalene. My grandmother was Lucy Rachal.

Ad Ruth Brossette Wilson Thomas


Rev. Jasper Brossette Wilson (1909 - 1982)

LORD, May I live to help the man who tries to keep me down,

may I greet him with a smile who greets me with a frown

and may I be too big to see the things that others do to me.

May I never hold a grudge nor hunt up scattered strife,

may I never seek to judge the faults of another's life,

and may I always be too big to see the things that others do to me.

Lord, may I ever use good sense and always take this stand,

to me, nothing is offense there is no perfect man.

And may I live always to see only the good that others do to me.

Pastor Jasper Brossette (J.B.) Wilson