Reviewed by Elizabeth St Jacques.
In these 54 poems, Lenard Moore returns to North Carolina, the place of his youth during the
1950s and 1960s. The memory path on which he walks calls up clear images of a life of hard work
in the cotton, tobacco and blueberry fields, and the poverty he and his people endured. While
empathetic, Lenard presents these hardships without overstatement or melodrama. Through the
eyes of his younger self, his focus is more on the purity of love, faith, nature. And rightly so. This
approach works perfectly.
In the (often quiet) telling of these poems, Lenard's rhythmic voice reflects a deep reverence and
love for family. In "Praisesong: From Son to Mother," for example, we find a vivid and moving
portrait of the memories of his humble home life. An excerpt:
I think of you: how
Lenard also allows us to witness the grueling, seemingly endless, toil that his people and migrant
workers endured. The poet's sympathy and indignation are evident in images such as "speechless
crows"; "boot-worn feet"; "brown feet /like a pendulum/stamp endless rows/of blueberry
fields"; "clutching cotton/ like machinery"; "he falls facedown/upon a wilted row/ windblown
tobacco/plants."
COTTONPICKERS
In a heavy rain the
right out of the
It should be mentioned that Lenard Moore is a haiku poet as well, so it is not surprising that
similarities of this discipline surface in several poems here. Those familiar with haiku (an ancient
Japanese poetry form) will recognize the resemblance in the following poem:
Sun Poem
Sun in
in its
For a pleasing balance, this able poet includes poems on a humorous note. However, most of
these begin on a serious note, ending with light humor that contains a thought-provoking twist. In
one poem, for example, the poet tells of smacking his old bulldog on the nose for stalking a young
peacock, saying he is "angry, even ashamed" of his pet's intention to kill the bird. The poem
concludes: "The young peacock returns/mingles with the white chickens/while I gather their new
eggs." (A Young Peacock)
Altogether, poems here paint a vivid, colorful personal and social history. Presented in an
intelligible style, this book makes for an easy and rewarding read. As in life, through simplicity
evolves depth, and so it is with these poems the more one reads this collection the richer and
more meaningful it becomes. "Forever Home" will undoubtedly retain its freshness and value long
into the future.
ELIZABETH St JACQUES
you picked purple collards
from the backyard garden,
got hog-meat fresh from great-grandma.
This was routine.
At dusk, with father home from teaching mechanics,
you set the redwood table.
We ate by candles.
Nobody spoke, the only sound
the noise of spoons and forks
scraping tin plates.
cottonpickers don't
dash but creep
field like snails
the lake
her face
face
staring
Copyright © 2000 by
Elizabeth St Jacques

Website: Poetry In The Light.
E-Mail: esj@sympatico.ca
