Poetry by Rowan Evans

In the darkened corridors of verse, where shadows weave,  
Sylvia and Anne dance, their words a somber hymn,  
Echoes of their pain and passion that we conceive,  
Their struggles with demons, their voices grim.

Sylvia, with her haunting gaze of blue,  
Wrote of a world caught in despair’s tight clutch,  
In her “Ariel,” the fire of her anguish flew,  
Through stark landscapes where shadows touch.

Anne, with her intense, searing flame,  
Spoke of the chaos that lived within her veins,  
Her “Live or Die” was a testament to the same,  
A chorus of suffering, a balm for her pains.

I walk the dark paths where their words collide,  
In the mirror of their suffering, my own shadows reside.  
My nights spent in the mental ward’s grim embrace,  
Where silence spoke louder than any face.

Their poetry, a labyrinth of tortured soul,  
Reflects the fractured parts of my own shattered whole.  
In Sylvia’s grief and Anne’s intense cry,  
I find the language of my own torment, deep and dry.

Yet, in the echo of their despair, there lies a thread,  
Of something beautiful, of ink and blood red,  
A shared language of scars, a sisterhood in ink,  
Where pain is transmuted, and spirits sink.

Sylvia’s “Bell Jar” and Anne’s “Hurry” twist,  
Paint pictures of sorrow where our shadows exist,  
Each word a dagger, each line a scream,  
Bound by a dark gothic, shared dream.

In their voices, I find my own truth,  
In the labyrinth of their words, I seek proof.  
Our struggles intertwine in a dark ballet,  
Where mental anguish finds a place to stay.

Their shadows cast long across the ink-stained page,  
Where my own verses join in their dark rage.  
We are sisters in poetry, bound by pain and song,  
In the dark gothic echo where our voices belong.

So, I write my lines with their ghosts in tow,  
Crafting my sorrow in their poetic glow.  
In the realm of the dark and the deeply bruised,  
Their legacy guides me, through verses abused.

For in the silence of their pages and mine,  
Our shared suffering and strength intertwine,  
In the dark gothic heart where our spirits meet,  
Sisters in poetry, where our shadows greet