Poem of the Week: 3.9.23

"Practicing Saudade" by Ricky Novaes de Oliveira

PRACTICING SAUDADE

by Ricky Novaes de Oliveira

This poem was published by Rigorous in Volume 5, Issue 3 (2021).

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Read by the poet:

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We’ve been studying poetic form in my AP English Literature class this week and a student, knowing I write poetry, asked a thoughtful question: “Which poem of yours is your favorite?” I told her it was hard to pick one because I have different kinds of favorites—my favorite poem to read out loud; my favorite poem to think back to; and even my favorite poem that is a favorite only because it got published but not because I actually think it is a good poem.

On the drive home, I decided “Practicing Saudade” is my favorite of the poems I’ve written. It’s a poem that contains several elements of my “style” of poetry: an autobiographical subject; wordplay and multiple meanings; an unorthodox form; and an abstract crystal of emotion. Moreover, I liked writing this poem. “Practicing Saudade” came about during a class I took at UCLA Extension when I was missing my undergraduate Creative Writing courses. The assignment was to write a poem that used alliteration as part of its form, and what started as a standard list of repeated sounds turned into a back-and-forth discourse.

Saudade is a Portuguese word known to be “untranslatable.” It roughly means an intense longing, which can be a longing for a place far away, a person too distant to reach, or a time now past. Though I’m half-Brazilian, I’m a bad Brazilian: my Portuguese sucks and I rely on Google Translate when I write emails to my lovely grandma. So, this poem is situated between multiple kinds of “practice,” both the rote routine of language acquisition and also the ongoing procedure of grief. I practice my Portuguese like I practice being Brazilian like I practice missing my dad: not as often as I feel like I should, yet every single day.

After I told my student it was not easy to pick a favorite, she still wanted an answer. So I told her my favorite was one I wrote about Los Angeles, thinking that she might be able to relate to it and hoping she might be interested enough to ask about reading it sometime. I didn’t think “dead dad untranslatable loss” would land as well. Looking back, part of me wishes I had thought of this poem instead, arrived at my own truth sooner, and explained to her the power of poetry to express what we feel but can’t quite say. But the teacher part of me wants her to learn all that on her own. Plus, she still needs to finish her homework.

Saudades, Ricky