Lonely Introvert

I am an introvert

And I get lonely.

This is not a paradox.

It is a loneliness that sits deep in the soul,

Infusing itself into every atom of my being.

It covers me like a latex glove.

It suffocates me

And weighs me down.

Yet, I am an introvert.

I do not need someone physically near me.

I do not need you to hold my hand or stroke my hair.

I just need to know someone cares for me,

Loves me,

And thinks of me.

I still need space to breath and think and just be.

I am lonely-

Not because I AM alone,

But because I FEEL alone.

I Couldn’t Find the Moon

A poem about the loss of a friend. Looking through posts I saw that I promised to post this poem at a later date but got busy and forgot.

I Couldn’t Find the Moon

I couldn’t find the moon tonight;

It hid behind the clouds.

I cried, thinking of you and how

You loved to watch it rise.

I searched

As crickets sang,

And the soft wind danced to their song.

But I couldn’t find the moon tonight,

Just a few, sparse -spaced stars.

I stood there in the parking lot

As I do every night.

My head turned toward the sky,

I searched for you in the moonlight.

But I couldn’t find the moon tonight,

Though last eve’n it was full and clear.

I sought in vain

To see you there,

Watching me down here.

I couldn’t find the moon tonight,

But still, I could feel you.

It’s not just in the evening time,

or in the moon,

that I see you.

Pioneer Cemetery

Posted in honor of Pioneer Day, a holiday celebrated with greater fervor than the 4th of July in Utah.


Pioneer Cemetery

Nestled between two large, box-shaped suburban homes

Overlooking the picturesque valley,

Lay a quiet cemetery no large than a backyard.

Each grave marker is a small, foot-high, bronze plaque-

Evenly spaced in the manicured enclosure.

All around the peaceful graves are sidewalks with even-placed benches.

In one corner there is a statue of a pioneer family

That watch the peaceful slumber of the graves from their place in the bushes.

In another there is a tall stone engraving- each name of the buried is listed here.

Dotting the lawn are stories of several laid to rest in this place.

At the gate the red roses dance in the breeze-

Mimicking the flag waving above.

Pioneer Cemetery- the ornate entrance gate reads-

Though few care to take notice.

Empty of visitors and hidden in plain site on the cliff’s overhang.

A peaceful place-

A stunning, inspiring view.

The perfect spot for solitary contemplation.

A gem found

nestled between two, large, box-shaped suburban homes.


Summer’s Night Sky

Cooling the air to a comfortable 65 degrees

And providing a strong challenging wind,

The cold front brings with it rolling, grey clouds.

This atmosphere promises an early summer storm that is never delivered.

Instead, the waning gibbous moon rises brightly behind the mists and vapors.

There the moon prominently hangs;

Allowing the condensed waters of the failed storm to dance before it.

It dyes the shadows silver-blue as it radiates its glory.

A great bird of illuminated clouds shines in the evening

as the water, light, and shadow paint the sky.

It is a sight so beautiful it pulls on my soul.

I stare in open-jawed amazement-

A vision that could never be paralleled in the light of the sun.

All too soon the vision fades as the clouds glide onward.

The beauty was in that fleeting moment.


Inspired by “Be Somewhere” by David Habben

*A special Thanks to Mark Hedengren owner of  Red Finch Gallery*


Like Chinese ink paintings each stroke of the brush

Is an illusion of chance

But a reality of purpose.

Each composition is far too fluid and graceful

To label as merely “abstract”

For each piece like a surreal landscape-

Some gentle, pastoral, and quiet,

Some wild, mountainous, and full of adventure.

Still on the page and yet moving- breathing.

The bold black ink glides across the stark white;

The unpainted space as telling as the painted.

The beauty of motion captured in the lively stillness of ink-

Inviting you to dance to a wordless song-

The rhythm fast and energetic then slow and contemplative.

The swirling echoes of a hand through air

Or a graceful leg arching through space- mimicking the sound.

The drawings, the landscapes, the music, the body, the space-

Most importantly, the space in-between,

Is always rolling, flowing, moving-

Always in motion.


In honor of the summer solstice: the longest day of sunlight of the year.

I stand in its light,

Absorbing its power into my skin.

I am recharged by its warmth,

given by invisible beams.

It is a God,

Ruling over all that lives.

Infinite to our small minds,

It was here long before us,

And will remain long after.


It witnessed our birth,

Our evolution;

It will see our rise and our decline.

It shone down on the pyramids newly built,

The Roman’s ships expanding an empire,

And kings of legend’s long forgotten rule.


It grants life and can deal death.

It gives me strength, energy, happiness

as I lift my face to embrace its majestic power.

A truly omnipresent deity.