Words like Seeds

In the garden of life

There are flowers

And there are weeds

The flowers offer encouragement

Love and support

Planting words that grow like seeds

Rippling thru my mind

Returning when I need to hear them again

The weeds try to get me to focus

On my weakest points

Like jealousy, anger, resentment

Stealing joy, causing me not to trust

Then at just the right moment

A flower springs forth

Displacing the weed

Encouraging me, making me smile

Planting positive words

That grow like seeds

And fill my soul and mind and being

With joy and and love

And the desire to be

A beautiful flower

In someone else’s garden

Planting encouraging words like seeds



Brave Your Ladder

I’ve reached the top of the ladder

A few times in my life

Only to find it wasn’t that grand

And often accompanied by strife

The next ladder top

That I hope to see

Does not revolve around work

This time what I aspire to be

Is an artist, an author, a mystic of sorts

Creativity combined with spirituality

Entertaining myself with learning

That ultimately encourages others

To brave their own ladders

And whatever they want….to be

E.A. Fussell



She dreamt of pearls

Lots of pearls

She loved the feel of them

The weight of them

The purity of them

She respected the old process

The divers who braved sharks

And unknowns

In the blue water depths

Holding their breath

Hunting for oysters

Nature is truly impressive

It takes a tiny grain of sand

And turns it into a beautiful jewel

She dreamt of pearls

Lots of pearls

E.A. Fussell


Old Sensations

When I was a child

One of my favorite smells

Was our old post office

It was lined with

Row after row of little metal mail boxes

They looked like fancy little houses

With small glass windows

You could peak inside

To see if there was any mail

And open the door with a little key

The Post Office also had

A set of steps

Leading in and out

One of my biggest thrills

Was to climb to the top of those steps

Swing open the large glass door

Feel the coolness of conditioned air

Blowing in my face and

Breathe in the spectacular aroma

Of old metal mail boxes laced with

Scents of paper

And glue from the stamps

Decades later the sight of

A small antique mailbox can bring

Those memories back to life

And fill my mind with sensations

Wafting in

Of smells from long ago

E.A. Fussell


My Professor

My Professor

Not the typical sort

Presenting new ideas

About God’s Word

Romantic movies






The perversion of this world

Chasing after itself

Bound for destruction

Only one end in sight

Prophesied long ago

By the Only True Light

E.A. Fussell