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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: accountability

  • Poet’s Curse — A Poem About Heartbreak, Attachment & Letting Go

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    There is a particular kind of heartbreak that doesn’t have a villain.

    Sometimes nobody betrayed you.

    Nobody lied.

    Nobody promised you something they couldn’t give.

    Sometimes someone simply exists, speaks to you, makes you feel something—and your heart decides to build an entire mythology around it.

    That is where Poet’s Curse came from.

    I’ve joked before about having a poet’s curse: the tendency to fall into feelings quickly, to hear a little beauty in someone’s voice and suddenly find myself wading into the waves after it. But beneath the joke is something I’ve had to become more honest about.

    Sometimes my heartbreak is partly mine.

    Not because I was wrong to feel what I felt, but because I have a habit of giving pieces of myself away before I’ve figured out whether there is somewhere safe for them to land.

    The person in this poem didn’t necessarily do anything wrong. She didn’t promise me forever. She didn’t lead me somewhere just to abandon me. She talked—and I listened. I heard a siren’s song, and
    I chose to wade into the water.

    So this isn’t a poem about blaming her.

    It’s about looking at myself afterward and admitting something uncomfortable:

    I learned how to hold on long before I learned how to let go.

    And maybe that’s the real curse.

    Not that I love too deeply.

    Not that I feel too much.

    But that once I give someone a piece of my heart, I don’t always know how to take my hands away from the fire.

    Sometimes the only way forward is to stop calling that weakness a curse and start learning the skill I never had—

    how to let go without becoming less capable of love.

    — Rowan Evans

    A fountain pen and open notebook beside dark ocean waves while glowing fragments of a crimson heart drift away.
    Sometimes the hardest thing to learn isn’t how to love—it’s how to let go of what you’ve already given away.

    Poet’s Curse
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Here we go again
    it’s another season of sin,
    the poet’s back
    heartbroken with a pen.

    Yeah, went and fuckin’
    did it again—

    it’s my fault
    my heart is cracked,
    with pieces missing.

    You see, I give them away
    too freely, it’s such a pain
    to be me, I get hooked
    too easily—

    she did nothing wrong,
    she didn’t lead me on, just talked
    and I heard a siren’s song—

    I waded into the waves,
    prayed for things to change.

    Pardon the moment of slowness,
    give me a moment while I own this
    and take accountability for my part
    in breaking my heart.

    It’s a poet’s curse—

    I only learned how to hold on.
    I never learned how to let go,
    my feelings and emotion
    like hot coals in my hands.

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [When I Fall]
    When I Fall is a vulnerable poem about loving without reservation, feeling everything deeply, and refusing to make the heart smaller just because wholehearted love can sometimes lead to loneliness and pain.

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

  • Government Time-Out – A Sharp Satirical Poem on Power and Accountability | Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Governments Behaving Badly: A Satirical Poetry Series [pt. 2]

    Author’s Note

    If Raising Governments is the exhale—laughter edged with frustration—then Government Time-Out is what comes after.

    The moment humor fades, and what’s left is clarity.

    This piece strips the satire down to something quieter, more direct. It’s still framed through the language of discipline, but the tone shifts from playful to firm—less about calling out behavior, and more about demanding accountability.

    There’s a difference between reacting and reflecting. Between explaining something away and actually sitting with it.

    Government Time-Out lives in that space.

    No noise.
    No spin.
    Just the uncomfortable weight of consequence.

    Because sometimes the most powerful thing you can do…
    is stop talking—and finally listen.

    — Rowan Evans

    Symbolic illustration of political figures portrayed as misbehaving children in a chaotic environment, representing satire and accountability.
    No more excuses. Sit with it.

    Government Time-Out
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Sit down.
    No—actually, sit.

    We’re not doing this today.
    Not the yelling,
    not the threats,
    not the “I know better” attitude.

    You’ve had centuries
    to prove that.

    And yet—
    here we are.

    Hands in the cookie jar,
    crumbs on your face,
    still trying to say
    it wasn’t you.

    Really?

    You think we don’t see it?

    All the broken plates,
    the slammed doors,
    the mess you keep calling
    “necessary.”

    No.

    You don’t get to break things
    and call it order.

    You don’t get to hurt people
    and call it policy.

    So here’s what’s gonna happen.

    You’re going to sit there—
    quietly—
    and think about
    what you’ve done.

    No speeches.
    No spin.
    No rewriting the story
    to make yourself the hero.

    Just sit with it.

    Feel it.

    For once.

    And when you’re ready
    to act right—
    we’ll talk.

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

  • Raising Governments – A Satirical Poem About Political Immaturity | Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Governments Behaving Badly: A Satirical Poetry Series [pt. 1]

    Author’s Note

    Sometimes the only way to process the state of the world is to laugh at it.

    Raising Governments takes the chaos, contradictions, and immaturity often seen in global leadership and reframes it through something familiar: parenting. Not out of cruelty – but out of exhaustion. The kind that comes from watching the same mistakes repeat, over and over again.

    This piece leans into satire, using humor to highlight a deeper frustration – how systems meant to lead can sometimes feel reactive, impulsive, and disconnected from the people they affect.

    At its core, this isn’t just about governments.
    It’s about accountability.

    And the strange reality of feeling like the adults in the room… aren’t.

    — Rowan Evans

    Symbolic illustration of political figures portrayed as misbehaving children in a chaotic environment, representing satire and accountability.
    Sometimes the people in power act like children—and someone has to call it out.

    Raising Governments
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Why are governments
    actin’ like bad kids,
    needing their ass whipped?
    Go and get the switch—
    you pick. We’re going back
    to the 90s and before.
    No corners for you, no more.

    I’m not mad, I’m just—
    disappointed.
    I’ll turn this car around.
    Don’t think I won’t,
    I can see you in the rear view.
    This is gonna hurt me,
    more than it does you.

    As soon as we get home,
    everyone to your rooms.
    I need a minute to breathe—
    collect myself.
    And your attitudes…
    they don’t help.

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