Poetry by Rowan Evans

Author’s Note

All for Me began with the idea of nature behaving like an overly enthusiastic audience—thunder applauding, lightning taking pictures, and rain rolling out the red carpet as if the sky had organized a celebration in my honor.

The joke is that I’m not entirely opposed to the idea of being worth celebrating. I know I have my own value. I just don’t think the weather needs to turn that acknowledgment into a full-scale natural disaster.

This is a playful little collision between self-confidence, reluctant attention, and the absurdity of taking the universe’s behavior personally.

Sometimes the sky needs to understand that not every standing ovation requires a flood.

— Rowan Evans

All for Me
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I sit beneath the open sky,
watching as clouds roll in,
listening as the thunder claps—
it’s a round of applause,
a standing ovation,
but I don’t know—
what we’re celebrating.

Then the lightning flashes,
and I strike a pose—
ready for my picture to be taken,
why? I don’t know—
couldn’t get an answer,
when I asked for it.

Rain begins to fall,
like confetti thrown—
and the floods rush in,
like the red carpet rolled—
the sky keeps insisting
I’m someone worth announcing,
and I keep insisting—

I’m not.

Not that I don’t think
I’m great—

I do—

I just don’t want nature to
celebrate me too—
because nature doesn’t know
how to keep a party in check,
it always gets out of hand.
The water gets displaced—
more ends up on land.

And somewhere overhead,
the thunder claps again,
like it’s trying to convince me—

this was all for me.

I mean…

I appreciate the gesture,
but the sky really needs to chill.

Journey into the Hexverse

[It’s Almost Like I Know What I’m Doing]
A self-aware reflection on nearly three decades of writing, discovering how rage became rhythm, pain became poetry, and comedic timing became another tool in the poet’s arsenal.

[Lessons Without Kindness]
A reflection on learning self-respect from a relationship that changed—the lessons hidden in manipulation, silence, and loss, and the realization that you don’t have to shrink yourself to make someone else feel tall.

[Hell’s Protégé (Remix)]
Rowan Evans revisits Hell’s Protégé, originally written in 2024, and reshapes the dark, infernal persona through a newer voice. The remix keeps the fire, darkness, and diabolic ambition of the original while allowing the poem to breathe differently.

If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]