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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: Creative Process

  • The Point Was Discipline – 200 Days of Posting Poetry Every Day

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Two hundred days ago, I decided to post a piece on my blog every single day. Not because I knew it would grow. Not because I knew it would matter. But because I needed structure. I needed discipline.

    Some days were easy. Some weren’t. There were nights I questioned whether anyone was reading, whether it made a difference, whether I should stop. But that was never really the point.

    The point was showing up.
    The point was building something real.
    The point was proving to myself that I could be consistent.

    Two hundred days later, I’m still here.
    Still writing. Still learning. Still becoming.

    The point was always discipline.

    — Rowan Evans

    A notebook and pen on a desk in soft morning light with a calendar marked day 200, symbolizing writing discipline and consistency.
    Two hundred days. The point was discipline.

    The Point Was Discipline
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Two hundred days,
    two hundred nights—
    I chose to write
    in spite of
    depression spells,
    and anxiety swells.

    I wasn’t sure
    it would matter
    to me, to you,
    to anyone.

    But here’s the thing—
    It didn’t really matter,
    that was never the point.

    The point was discipline—
    that’s why I have
    two-hundred days
    of showing up.

    I wrote confessions.
    Almost slipped
    and said the words,
    1-4-3 and I Meant It.
    I’ll say it again,
    in just Two Words—
    Mahal kita.

    I wrote through
    Liminal Static,
    to uncover things
    Etched in Memory.

    I wrote poems
    with ink-dipped
    rose thorns,
    Body/Mind,
    Quietly Rearranged
    in the Depths
    of my Sprawling Thoughts.

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

  • Momentum – A Poem About Growth, Doubt, and Moving Forward

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece came from a quiet moment of doubt. Not the kind that makes you quit – the kind that makes you question the cost of what you’re chasing.

    Sometimes ambition feels heavy. Sometimes the version of yourself you have to become feels unfamiliar. This poem is less bout certainty and more about motion.

    I didn’t write it to motivate anyone else. I wrote it because I needed to remember that progress doesn’t require a map – just movement.

    — Rowan Evans

    A person standing at the base of a mountain at dusk, looking toward a faint path upward, symbolizing growth and momentum.
    You don’t need a map. You just need momentum.

    Momentum
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    When every thought
    is focused on
    the goals you’ve got,
    but they come
    with tremendous cost.
    What do you do
    when you feel lost?

    You breathe.
    You stall.
    You stare at the ceiling
    like it owes you answers.

    You hold your goals
    like they’re burning in your hands—
    beautiful,
    but blistering.

    You wonder
    if the cost is worth the climb,
    if the climb is worth the view,
    if the view is worth the version of you
    you’ll have to become
    to reach it.

    And still—
    you keep going.
    Not because you’re certain,
    but because something in you refuses
    to stay small.

    What do you do?
    You take one step.
    Then another.
    And another.

    You don’t need a map.
    You just need momentum.

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

  • Sprawling Thoughts – A Poem About Writing, Confession, and Survival

    Rowan Evans

    ✦ Author’s Note ✦

    These words spill like blood and ink. They explore fear, shame, and the weight of confession. Step forward only if you feel steady.

    Your breath, your life, and your heart are sacred. If these words stir difficult feelings, pause, breathe, and reach for light, support, or care. You are never truly alone in the dark.

    Resources if needed:

    US: 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline – Call or text 988 | https://988lifeline.org

    UK: Samaritans – Call 116 123 | https://www.samaritans.org

    Australia: Lifeline – Call 13 11 14 | https://www.lifeline.org.au

    Canada: Talk Suicide Canada – Call 1-833-456-4566 | https://talksuicide.ca

    Global: Befrienders Worldwide – https://www.befrienders.org

    An open notebook on a dark desk, ink spreading across the page like constellations, lit by a single candle in a shadowed room.
    Where ink becomes confession and scars learn how to shine.

    Sprawling Thoughts
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I put the pen to paper
    like a gun to my head.
    Pull the trigger,
    write the first line—
    watch the ink splatter,
    like brain matter—
    as thoughts sprawl,
    and crawl
    across
    the page.

    This is what
    confession feels like,
    when I write.
    I pour
    my heart out
    on the page.
    The fear and shame,
    I give it shape,
    I give it a name.

    I dance with my demons,
    and map my scars
    like astronomers
    mapping stars.

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

  • 131 Days: A Journey Through Words, Fire, and Devotion

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece is a reflection on persistence, inspiration, and the threads that connect my work over the past year. Each italicized title is a window into the poems that shaped this journey—moments of love, desire, trauma, healing, and devotion.

    At its heart, this is about process as much as outcome: the daily practice of writing, the sparks of muse, and the quiet work done in the late hours when the world is still. It’s also a tribute to those who witness these words—across screens, pages, and hearts—you are part of this ongoing journey too.

    Consider this piece a bridge: between poems, between moments, between the past and the work yet to come.

    A writer’s hands holding a pen over scattered pages of poetry, lit by a warm lamp, evoking quiet inspiration and devotion.
    Late nights, ink-stained fingers, and the quiet companionship of words—where every poem begins.

    131 Days
    (A Journey Through Words, Fire, and Devotion)
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’ve been
    so focused—
    over-focused, some say.
    One hundred thirty-one days
    and counting.

    I’ve written with range:
    love, desire, mental health,
    trauma, recovery.
    There’s more, of course,
    but that’s the core.

    I write like
    A Heart Unveiled,
    witnessing the
    Colors of Your Soul.
    My pen
    revealing,
    the Infinity Within.
    As my mind
    drifts free
    in The Hallow Sea.

    My muse,
    my inspiration is—
    A-Woman.
    The vision of beauty,
    an angel on earth—
    a Filipina,
    with fire in her eyes.
    When the world tries
    to put her fire out,
    that is when I
    Cry to the Quiet.
    And why
    I Am
    offering myself
    to her, fully.
    Freely.
    For you see,
    she—
    is Perfectly Imperfect,
    which means…
    she is perfect for me.

    She has shown me,
    that there are
    Timelines Worth Rewriting.
    And your essence,
    I will never forget—
    because
    I Am the Storm That Remembers.

    Late nights, ink-stained fingers,
    the quiet my closest companion.
    For those who witness, across pages and screens,
    you carry a piece of this journey too.
    And still, I write on.

    If you enjoyed this piece and want to check out more of my work, you can click one of the many links scattered throughout the poem itself. They take you to my highest viewed pieces of the year. I am not saying they are my best pieces, just the ones that got the most views. Anyway, you can find more of my work here: [The Library of Ashes]