Miss Louis – by April Bulmer


Some of my friends in Cambridge, Ontario, Canada where I live practice ancient crafts. One woman invited me to her small outdoor patio last summer where she sat spinning wool on an antique spinning wheel. A mutual friend joined us and worked on a tatting project. I sat with a journal and took notes for what would become the poem below.

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About Face – by April Bulmer


This poem evolved from the word “mask” and explores various implications of face: the face of the moon, my father and God.  I imagine the moon’s face might bear the scars of severe celestial

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April – by April Bulmer

The poem below is an exploration of spring in Southern Ontario, Canada where I live. It draws a parallel between the rebirth of the earth and of my soul, for I believe in reincarnation. It also draws a connection between flowers breaking through the soft earth and my caesarean birth. Ultimately, the poem ends with a juxtaposition of my mother’s wedding attire and the moon which is presented as a flower rooted in God, the ultimate Mother.

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Beatrice: Blood – by April Bulmer


Canadian award-winning poet and mystic, April Bulmer, speaks in the tongues of many women based on her visions of past lives. Even her favourite tree is a familiar old soul and “bows his stiff knees/to weather.”

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