Poetry by Rowan Evans

Author’s Note

Some poems arrive carrying trauma, existential questions, complicated metaphors, and enough symbolism to fill a cathedral.

This one showed up carrying a fucking pun.

Hedge Funds (Not My Fun) is deliberately stupid. I wanted to play with sound, names, word associations, and the increasingly questionable logic of a joke that refuses to die. Sometimes the page doesn’t need another emotional excavation—it just needs to have a little fun.

So yes, this is a poem about hedge funds.

No, I don’t actually have any.

And apparently, neither does my fun.

— Rowan Evans

Hedge Funds (Not My Fun)
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I think I’m so fucking funny—
I’ll make a Big Pun,
while lookin’ like a Pimp
C—but you can’t see me,
like my name is John
and my time is now—

or at least, I hope it is.
Because I’m trying to get my funds up,
yeah, I want to get my fun up—
so I stack my funds
as high as my hedges—

get it?

Hedge Fund.

That means the money isn’t mine—

so I’m stacking some funds high,
they’re just not my funds, and—
because they’re not my funds,
they do not fund my fun, man.

Journey into the Hexverse

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