Cuttings: April

Haiku and Short Poems
Spring Season
1998 - 2025

By Mike Garofalo

 

flow2.gif (27433 bytes)

 

Place, Setting, Location:

Red Bluff, Tehama County,
North Sacramento Valley,
California, 1998-2016

 

head on hand
eyes down—
whiskey breath

 

Buddha's birthday—
2566 candles
burned to nothing.
 
[Siddhartha Gautama, circa: 4/8/563-483 BC]

 

roses
cut in the rain
pouring fragrances

 

Mt. Shasta in
my rearview mirror—
Mozart on a CD.

 

Her long stare;
a wink away
from the blush.

 

Arguing about Iraq
over lunch—
heartburn.

 

truth beyond words
beyond silence—
her big grin

 

Absentmindedly
walking nowhere—
orange sunrise.

 

black butterflies
making love—
April moon

 

Ahh!  The wide almond groves
in full white flower
,
Stunning in the morning sun.
Old naked Winter in his garb of
grays
and browns has run.
Forsythia blooms come and go
in the blink of a yellow Eye,
Then, suddenly, mysteriously,
Green erupts; and we sigh.

 

Dropped off
body and mind—
weeding new cuttings.

 

pines needles
silvered by the sun—
clear blue skies

 

flowers flying
in the breeze—
sweet scents of spring

 

 

April showers—
dogs cower
from the thunder.

 

A homeless man shivers in the sunshine.
Home of the free; land of the hungry.

 

soldiers on both sides
shiver at dawn—
homesick.

 

iridescent red
hedge roses—
scattered fog

 

one less
blanket on the bed—
April

 

Easter morning—
rising over stones
poppies.

 

Patriotism ripens till rotten
And the stink of revenge
Perfumes the victory prayers,

Or pathetic platitudes intoned.
Flesh falls from bones,
Sons become tombstones;

Mothers moan, fathers groan,
Brokenhearted in empty homes.

the military graveyard
needs mowing—
not a soul in sight

 

storing away
winter clothes—
months since she died

 

Full speed into the void—
arriving late...
before anyone

 

2,000 pound bombs
explode—
freedom rings

 

    the icy silence
    day after day—
smoldering anger

 

She caught my eye—
high in the sycamore
a poised hawk

 

America attacks—
flags hang
at half-mast

 

walking in the weeds
    Sneezing
into the Spring breeze

 

 

Weathered shed,
screens crawling with wasps
shaking in the April gale.

 

two mares snoozing
in the tall spring grass—
cold north wind

 

Web of grapevines
    crisscrossing the trellis—
ants ........
.........................

 

Sunday rest
on shaded grass—
sermons by cherry blossoms

 

Everyone smiling
on this warm clear day—
Spring Fever.

 

Red winter,
Creamy white spring,
green summer—

firethorn

 

Cheering our hearts—
flushed spring leaves
applaud the winds.

 

Heartsick girl
sobbing on the schoolyard—
mind moves - flag flaps

Flip-flopping leaves:
silver, green, silver, green, silver ...
indecipherable winds.

 

Walnuts
last to leaf;
The Queen of nuts makes us wait.

 

reading Issa,
sipping tea
smiling

 

McDonald's Breakfast Club—
the good old boys
calling for Al-Quida blood.

 

headless mouse
    by the back door—
ruthless cat

 

bad dream—
the sitcom laugh track
wakes me up

 

hot boulders
drying creek beds—
greening willows

 

He raises a toast
we pause ...
lifting our spirits.

 

a long drag,
a slow exhale—
deeper into dreams

 

long thick hair
    my eyes to Full Hips
wandering lust

 

Scattering
behind the mower;
Clumps
of wet cut grass.

 

Jerked awake from
wrestling with demons.
Wounded dawn,
bloodied but triumphant,
reborn
utterly fresh.

 

walking on and on .........
my sweat steams back

 

Pine candles flickering green,
junipers yellow headed,
roses vibrant red ...
Stopping— I stared!

 

trenches dug—
sore back
tired arms

 

plastic chair
blown on its back,
resting today

 

below the bridge—
    a wrinkled crone
    sleeping alone

 

She pours more tea
politely—
our chopsticks pause

 

Bees in pink-purple
plum blossoms—
first days of spring.

 

slowly awakening
curled in the covers ...
           smelling coffee

 

Full kiai
    bouncing off the dojo walls—
        shaking in sweat-soaked gi

 

Enlivened gestures
perfect and strong.
T'ai Chi Ch'uan with Patricia Long.

 

Taxes forgotten—
weeding
mindlessly

 

Tax and spend Democrats.
Borrow and spend Republicans.
Nobody else can get elected, so
we fold up the flag.

 

Stop!
Under this huge cottonwood
Dancing up a storm

 

black life on dead pulp—
a fly
on my book

 

working on
a split rain fence—
big brown hawk
hiding his claws

 

Lively white cat,
dead brown sparrow:
Didn't get along!

 

black cows
fattened on high green grass
shadowed by black clouds

 

Truckload of cattle
on Slaughterhouse Road.
The would have not lived
without men.

 

Red Bluff Ro'day'o
Rounding e'm up—
Pointy toed boots and Stetsons.

 

the thousandth time
the train tracks roared—
dogs again bark back

 

cut grass clings to
wet brown boots—
daybreak

 

Sick son
worried
as I.

thin arms,
balding heads—
cancer ward

cold
x-ray room
groaning patients

savoring each thin breath—
the weak old man
recovers from pneumonia

My son,
weakening ...
sleeping half the day.

 

Stopped!
    Sunset Road Panorama
    pulled me over

 

half a leek left—
somewhere content
a farting gopher

 

Sex, A Concrete Poem by Michael P. Garofalo.

 

Backyard rock garden—
my Stone Forest of Yunnan
beloved odd stones.

 

Chicken manure
ca ca doodle do do—
foul food for squash

 

Into the twilight—
a brown jackrabbit
heads to the pond

 

Peacocks and guinea hens
screeching—
the foals bolt.

 

weeds in bloom
bright red, yellow, white—
mowed down

 

preachers
gagging on their falsehoods—
infants vomiting formula

 

 

Samsara winks
Spring smiles—
    Nirvana trickles underground.

 

bloody dead dog
crushed again—
turning trucks

 

One week a hero for many,
next week an enemy for some—
Palm Sunday

 

A woodpecker's knock
Cracks the quiet sky
Echoing off hardwoods

 

one not two,
two not one—
legs on a snake

 

The dark pines edge the deepest shade,
While cherry blossoms set and fade.

 

In downtown Portland, the sunlight shimmers
in walls of glass, mirroring steel and river.

 

Sea and creek meet
over rocks and sand—
    noisy reunion

 

one toad
occasionally croaking—
lonely garden

 

Unafraid of demons
baffled by the zig-zag bridge;
the yellow carp swims
straight on.

 

lush green meadow—
orange glazed
poppies

 

skittish girls
ogling a cute boy—
blushing

 

Redbuds in bloom:
purple on purple,
Royal purple.

 

Pekin and Rouen
ducklings in the brooder,
peeping not quacking.

 

white roses
white cherry blossoms—
up in the blue dawn

 

hot rod parade
up Hilltop Road—
"Cool April Nights"

 

Years ago ...
my dad died—
the sadness still comes
and goes.

I held his hand
limp and pulse less;
both of us breathless.

My Dad for fifty years,                         
Forever now:  a dead man.

Michael James Garofalo  1/10/1916 - 4/2/1997

 

 

 

Place, Setting, Location:
Vancouver,
Clark County,
Columbia River Valley,
Washington,
2017-2025

 

 

   damp ground
muddy trails—
     watching my step

 

his rocking chair
sopped moving—
he died

 

Politics wobbly—
King T talks
and talks and talks

 

Silently
tulips bloom ...
by wooden shoes.

 

nursery roses
roots and stalks—
digging holes

 

        dead bonsai
     dried out—
washed the brown ceramic tray

 

Driving too Fast
    and Crashed!!!
Lessons not learned!

 

dusty books
unopened—
    silent shelves

 

    blocked
        stuck—
need a writer's prompt

 

too much
    to drink—
too boozed to think

 

    April holds
tightly—
stiff and cold

 

too late—
    pissed in my pants
        could not wait

 

    mad as hell
rants and raves—
I snuck away

 

Turned off
the light—
    listened to the night

 

Before daybreak
the lantern died—
    closed the book

 

    car Crash
ambulance
—sign of the cross

 

homeless woman
    stands and begs—
American progress

 

        Good news
    Bad news—
Relative to whom?

 

Ferns
    die away—
Reborn in May

 

rain drops
    stopped—
began to walk

 

        His rocking chair
    stopped moving—
He died

 

coming
cumming—
    Loud sighs

 

    fists touch
        fight now—
betting window closed

 

        She fell—
broken foot
    limping moans

 

potted plant
        dry—
chores for today

 

Tillamook Spring—
    green grass
        grazing cows

 

 

    the aftertaste
    of rebukes—
friendship over

 

    April 1st—
    cherry trees
Red

 

gusty winds—
cherry blossoms
    sca tt er e d

 

    April sun
dries the mud—
red tulips

 

Morning
stretch—
    thirsty

 

red mug
steaming—
    taste of tea

 

        steaming
    cup—
Starbucks

 

drinking
    at dusk—
Irish coffee

 

ugly child
cried—
ugly mom sighed

 

angry again
    displeased—
cornered in

 

changes
endured—
    seasonally

 

moss on rocks
lichens on trees—
pimples on my cheek

 

house plants
    all around—
fresh air

 

The little girl said "Hi"
waved her hand and smiled
made me happier for awhile.

 

    opening
his old letter—
lost lives replayed

 

        Talked with
    my Brother—
tumor in his brain

 

    we lost
    the game—
our season ended that way

 

cold wind
        rings chimes—
silence of drizzling rain

 

        buttered bread
    coffee black—
daybreak rituals

 

Loved
her songs ...
        We sang along.

 

 

 

 

Cuttings Spring:

February

March

April

May

June

 

 

 

Months and Seasons
Quotes, Poems, Saying, Lore, Myths, Celebrations
Holidays, Gardening Chores
Compiled by Mike Garofalo
 

Winter

Spring

Summer

Fall

January

April

July

October

February

May

August

November

March

June

September

December 

 

flow2.gif (27433 bytes)

 

25 Steps and Beyond: Collected Works

At the Edges of the West, Volume 1
Highway 101 and Hwy 1: Pacific Coast

The Gushen Grove Sonnets

Bundled Up: Tanka Poetry

At the Edges of the West, Volume 2
Highway 99 and Interstate 5

Cuttings: Haiku

Poetry Research by Mike Garofalo

 

 

 

Mike Garofalo lives in Vancouver,
Washington. He worked for 50 years
in city and county public libraries,
and in elementary schools. He
graduated with degrees in
philosophy, library science, and
education. He has been a web
publisher since 1998.

Biography

 


 

 

 

25 Steps and Beyond: Collected Works

Text Art and Concrete Poetry

 

Cuttings: April, Spring

First Distributed on the Internet WWW in September 1999.
Updated until April of 2017.
Post new poems from Vancouver in April 2025.

This document was last edited, revised,
reformatted, added to, relinked,
changed, improved, or modified
by Mike Garofalo
on April 5, 2025.