Poem of the Week: 11.10.22
"[hillside rain]" by Ricky Novaes de Oliveira
[hillside rain]
by Ricky Novaes de Oliveira
This poem was first published in Neologism Poetry Journal in 2022.
Read by the poet:
This is the tenth edition of the Poem of the Week. Thank you for reading!
Over the last few weeks, I’ve been sharing my so-far published poems with some reflections and insight. If you missed any, you can find my poems and all past posts by clicking here.
I’ve really been enjoying writing to you and having a place for my thinking, and I hope we can keep this poetry party going forever and ever. So please consider sharing this newsletter with a friend or foe who loves poetry—it’ll help all of us grow.
“[hillside rain]” is a “concrete” poem—the words are freely set to evoke an image within the space of a page. My poem just debuted in the 65th edition of the Neologism Poetry Journal, a sophisticated yet humble online publication of poetry. Big shout out to their editor Christopher who made sure to get the formatting juuust right.
Concrete poetry is one of my favorite styles to experiment with. Not only does it have Brazilian roots, but it also is a satisfying mixture of shape and sense. “[hillside rain]” is shaped by two distinct images: the raining cloud at the top that announces the poem, and a hillside of words below being divided by the collected streams of water. I spent much of the early COVID pandemic going on runs at a nearby nature reserve; the hiking trail there that would get too muddy to climb when it rained is the source of inspiration for this poem that popped into my head on a day when my mood matched the weather. Unfortunately, angsty/sappy love poems are my forté.
Heartbreak is sad, and much of this poem is gloomy, but there is a shift. The white spaces in the middle of the poem represent the rainfall separating into separate streams, much like the people breaking apart in the poem. After the “agony,” the tone becomes speculative and probing, filled with verbs and prepositions to emulate the rain gaining momentum as it speeds downhill. The second half of the poem can be read narratively from left-to-right (“hillside rain trickles toward us / will the path ahead / roll like a stream”), but there are opportunities of wordplay and repetition when read top-to-bottom instead (“hillside rain trickles toward us / searching for body / huddle in the drain ditch”). I wanted a poem that captured this freely moving quality of water while also speaking to the emotional release (rain) that joins a break up (storm).
And that’s essentially why I love concrete poetry. It’s a perfect cycle: the shape of the poem contextualizes the words used, while the meaning of the words justifies the shape of the poem. Rain, sadness, and the divisions they both create are natural; let it flow, and then prepare for “the rain to come.”
Damp, Ricky