The beauty of poetry is the spaces inbetween. That which is left unsaid. And the words that are set to spread in different directions. That is the main reason I love it. It is easy to flood out emotions in prose and to let your brain scatter and trail, but a poem requires the artist to strip, dissect, and redress. However, when I love a poem, and I’ve practiced my own literary criticism, my curious mind will long for an explanation. What was the inspiration? Was that double meaning intentional or did it reveal my own subconscious? Why did they use that word? I also, in my own poetry, find myself longing to reveal the gaps. To crack open the door of my inspiration while maintaining the beauty of the mystery. For, “Can I call you Rose?” I had few sources of inspiration. The first being a song from “Thee Sacred Souls” which is also titled, “Can I Call you Rose?”. This rising band is soulfully sweet and reminiscent of the music of the 60s. In my culture, we call this “cruising music”. No, not the cruising of the Bahamas, but instead the cruising that you do in your car down a busy boulevard. It’s music that you listen to when you’ve got nowhere to go. Their whole album is wonderful, but “Can I Call you Rose?” is lyrically romantic and touching. So much so, that I desired to imitate his stanza style and comparative nature. Another source of inspiration for the piece is rooted in the fact that “Rose” is a family name on my mother’s side of the family. My great-great grandmother’s name was Rose (Yes, I have that right. For the first 13 years of my life we had five generations living). She was an incredible woman who raised nine children in a dirt floored pueblo in Southern Colorado. And later in life, battled Alzhiemiers until her death at ninety-three. I remember visiting her daily after school with my mother and sisters. She wouldn’t always remember who we were, but she’d grace us with her stories and her quick sense of humor. I’d listen attentively while my mother painted her nails. She had such graceful fingers, long and strong yet fragile looking from her aging skin. Even today, I see her hands in the hands of my mother, the woman who once painted Rose’s. I am grateful for my time with her at the end of her life during the beginning of mine. It was through this experience, that I believe, I've never feared aging nor dying because it is all a part of this journey. And Rose did what Roses do, she bloomed for a moment in time, and then she bent her head and folded into the mystery. I do not know if she was the “first Rose” of the family, but her name continues as several of my family members now don that name as a middle name. Her legacy continues, not only in name, but in her nature. Her great-grandchildren, my aunts and mother, are Roses that grace this world. They are gorgeous, shapely, reserved and closed yet in full bloom. They have flourished despite the harsh conditions they were raised in following the early death of their mother at the age of 24 (my mother, the oldest, was just 9). They are symbols of love and perseverance by spreading the fragrance of love by never adopting the bitterness of victimhood nor comparison. They are Roses who stand tall and are sweet like a flower in bloom. My poem, “Can I call you Rose?”, has other sources of inspiration from my own story, but these two are the crack in the door. That is one of the reasons I love to write poetry…you can still hide while exposing yourself and only those who have the key can unlock it's full meaning. I encourage all of you to write your own poetry to capture the multidimensionality of your own heart and story. Notes: 1. "Thee Sacred Souls" are coming to Denver this Friday, August 25th. If you end up loving them, feel free to join me at the concert. 2. Here are the lyrics to "Can I Call You Rose?" by the Sacred Souls. Verse Two is probably my favorite. 3. The music video nods to its chicano influences with the lowriders, chicano style, and a cookout and dance floor. Check it out below and catch a groove or, better yet, go cruising. 4. Below is a photo of my Great-Great Grandma Rose with her husband Salomon and their nine children. This photo was taken in the 70s...gotta love Aunt V and Aunt Connie's fabulous frames and Uncle Ray's mustache.
1 Comment
Michele York. Also known as Shelly…
9/7/2024 11:50:14 pm
This is amazing. I just heard of this song. I would love to know more about it.
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AuthorBrianna is a proud native of West Denver and she is an avid admirer of the arts. Her admiration of the arts is centered around her draw toward the beautiful and good of everyday life. Brianna finds beauty in a well-worn book, in the eclectic colors and textures of a thrift store find, and in the sound of a killer guitar solo whether it be live or through a well thought out Spotify playlist. Her passions are varied and many, but they all center on appreciating the fullness of life. Archives
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