←

Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: Batman Reference

  • Iron Sharpens Iron | A Meta-Poem About Creative Conflict & the Many Voices Within by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Some poems come from a single voice.

    This one comes from the argument.

    Iron Sharpens Iron is about what happens when every version of my creative mind sits down at the same table: the gothic romantic, the absurdist comic, the mythmaker, the battle-poet, the joke creator, and whatever other voice decides to kick the door open halfway through a line.

    The notebook becomes the sparring ring. One thought throws a punch, another throws a punchline, and sometimes Batman apparently gets involved.

    I don’t always plan where the thread is going. Sometimes I just follow it until the poem lands somewhere that makes sense.

    Maybe that’s the point.

    I don’t need to silence the contradictions. I need them to sharpen each other.

    — Rowan Evans

    A poet surrounded by multiple shadowy versions of themselves representing gothic romance, humor, mythology, and battle poetry, all connected by glowing strands of ink.
    I don’t silence the voices in my head. I let them sharpen each other.

    Iron Sharpens Iron
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I sit by myself—
    alone in body,
    crowded in mind—
    it’s a constant battle of wits,
    moon-fed goth kid
    versus the battle-poet
    turning pens to WMDs.

    The notebook—
    just a test site,
    where I drop bombs.
    It’s constant—
    the scream of the alarms.

    I write so much
    because my mind
    fights too much—
    a gothic romantic,
    an absurdist comic—
    opinions, opinions,
    too many opinions—
    constant contradictions.

    Is this a joke?

    Are the emotions sincere?

    What the fuck— (Batman!)
    is that reference doing here?

    That’s just how my mind is sometimes—
    I write a line and follow it, (Stalker.)
    I don’t plan it—I just follow the thread,
    guide the ship and land it.
    But sometimes I get lost—
    I’ll orbit the planet,
    or drift in my dreams—
    and they say to make the dreams work,
    it takes team work—
    well, I became my own team,
    every version of me.

    Gothic romantic, absurdist comic,
    mythmaker, joke creator
    and professional hater— (Jokes. Love ya!)
    a battle-poet raised on battle rappers
    and comedians—
    how I learned to land a punchline,
    can’t fight with my fists—
    but can fight with my mind,
    and I do it all the time—
    with myself, I spar,
    iron sharpens iron, after all.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    [Blindfolded & Still Winning]
    A playful battle-poetry freestyle about shutting off the inner editor, letting instinct take over, and discovering that sometimes the pen writes best when you stop watching it.

    [Literarily Speaking]
    They think silence means weakness. They should probably have paid more attention to the pen. Literarily Speaking turns gothic imagery, raven feathers, rose-petal ink, and absurd fictional geography into a playful battle-poetry flex about dismantling your enemies with words instead of hate.

    [The Playground]
    What happens when mythology stops being something to hide behind and becomes architecture for the imagination? The Playground (Language, Metaphors and More) explores Rowan Evans’s relationship with language, symbolism, metaphor, humor, and twenty-three years of turning the page into a place where anything can happen.

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

  • Frankenstein’s Monster (and I’m the Doctor) | Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This poem didn’t start with a message.

    It started with frustration.

    Not the kind that arrives fully formed or carefully structured—but the kind that builds in fragments. Small irritations. Cultural noise. Half-remembered references. Thoughts that don’t arrive in order, but all at once.

    What I wanted to capture here wasn’t a linear argument or a polished reflection on anger or identity.

    It was the process itself.

    The way the mind can jump from one idea to another without asking permission. The way language doesn’t always behave politely. The way emotion and memory and absurdity can occupy the same space without resolving into anything clean.

    The Batman reference, the cartoon interruption, the sudden shift in tone—none of it is meant to smooth into coherence.

    It’s meant to feel like it actually feels inside the moment of thinking it.

    The line “This is how my mind works” is the turning point for me in the piece.

    Not because it explains everything, but because it stops pretending everything needs to be explained.

    Some poems are built to argue a point.

    This one is built to show the mechanism.

    And the ending—“Frankenstein’s Monster / And I’m the doctor”—isn’t meant as metaphor in the traditional sense.

    It’s closer to recognition.

    That the thing being called chaos is also something being assembled. Intentionally or not. Carefully or not. But still assembled.

    And that sometimes the person inside the noise is also the one holding the pieces.

    — Rowan Evans

    A poet in a gothic laboratory assembling glowing fragments of words and images into a patchwork creation made from poetry and imagination.
    “My poetry? Frankenstein’s Monster. And I’m the doctor.” Sometimes creativity isn’t about finding order—it’s about assembling the pieces and bringing them to life.

    Frankenstein’s Monster (and I’m the Doctor)
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’m sick of my surroundings;
    sick of these fakes,
    sick of the snakes,
    they’re all just Batman villains—
    Two-face.

    Crazy is the way
    they made me.
    Twisted thoughts
    that wouldn’t stop—
    pop goes the weasel,
    I R Baboon.

    This is how my mind works.
    It links two things
    that are seemingly opposites.
    They have nothing in common,
    but still I piece them together—

    my poetry?
    Frankenstein’s Monster.

    And I’m the doctor.

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [Violets Are Violet (Roses Are Complicated)]
    A simple observation leads to an absurd conclusion: violets aren’t blue, roses aren’t always red, and the classic love poem may be far less accurate than advertised. A humorous free-verse poem about overthinking, flower symbolism, and the unintended consequences of analyzing clichés too closely.

    [It’s Just Me but Super]
    A playful free-verse poem about cartoons, imagination, cosmic wanderings, and the strange magic of creativity. Through wordplay, nostalgia, and absurd humor, Rowan Evans explores what happens when ordinary life meets an extraordinary imagination.

    [100 Grand and a Book Deal]
    A playful collision of candy bars, comic book heroes, basketball legends, and cosmic metaphors. Beneath the jokes lies a reflection on twenty-three years of writing, creativity, and the dream of building something lasting one line at a time.

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