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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: devotion poetry

  • I’ll Be There to See Your Sunrise | Love, Vulnerability & Staying Present

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Love has always felt heavy to me.

    Not in a bad way— just in a real way.

    I don’t connect lightly, and I don’t fall into feelings easily. So when I do care about someone deeply, it feels enormous. Like something inside me permanently shifts shape around them.

    That can be beautiful.

    It can also be terrifying.

    This piece came from realizing that vulnerability isn’t just saying “I love you.” Sometimes vulnerability is choosing to stay present after you realize someone has the power to hurt you.

    Not because they want to.

    Just because love makes that possible.

    But I think there’s something important about choosing connection anyway.

    Not idealizing someone. Not expecting perfection. Not asking them to heal you.

    Just deciding that the fear of losing connection shouldn’t matter more than the connection itself.

    There’s also a quiet promise buried in this piece.

    A promise to stop drifting when things become emotionally overwhelming. A promise to stay long enough to witness someone fully. To see them in daylight, not just darkness.

    Sometimes love isn’t rescue.

    Sometimes it’s simply saying:

    “I’m here. And I’ll still be here when the sun comes up.”

    — Rowan Evans

    A shadowed figure watching the sunrise through a window as warm morning light begins to fill the room.
    Sometimes love is not rescue—it’s choosing to stay long enough to see the sun rise.

    I’ll Be There to See Your Sunrise
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Dim the lights
    and close the blinds—

    I’m going to be
    honest for a minute,
    I don’t love easily.

    It’s not that I’m afraid.
    I’m not scared to love.

    It just doesn’t come
    without fees for me,
    it costs me something
    every time—I leave a piece
    of my heart behind.

    But the truth is—
    I never really felt love like that,
    everything was just a crush
    until you, that is.

    You—
    who resides in my thoughts now,
    who changed the way
    I see myself somehow.

    And the truth is—
    you didn’t do a thing, not really,
    you just made it safe
    to be honest.

    And I’ll be honest—
    I check your skies,
    before my own.

    The only thing that scares me
    is how much I care,
    that you can hurt me—

    and I’m hyperaware.

    But that’s not fair to you,
    to brace for ache
    when you carry your own pain—

    so even if I’m scared,
    I’ve got to face my fears.

    I’ve got to stay—
    I can’t let myself drift away.

    And I remember—
    you said I met you mid night,
    and the hope I’d see you
    in day light’s shine.

    This is my promise
    to be there,
    to witness it—

    I promise.
    I’ll be there
    to see your sunrise.

    Journey into the Hexverse...

    [Before We Created the Labels]
    Ancient gods return to a fractured world shaped by borders, identities, and separation. “Before We Created the Labels” explores humanity’s divisions through mythic imagery, sacred ritual, and symbolic collapse—asking what remains when we learn to see one another beyond labels.

    [The Unkindness Descends]
    “The Unkindness Descends” is a Gothic symbolic poem exploring collapse, transformation, and the unsettling experience of being witnessed during moments of unraveling. Through raven imagery, ambiguity, and ritualistic atmosphere, the poem invites multiple interpretations—spiritual, psychological, ominous, or transformative.

    [I Write Cathedrals]
    “I Write Cathedrals” explores faith, doubt, belonging, and the search for meaning beyond certainty. Through Gothic spiritual imagery and confessional reflection, the poem examines how writing can become a sacred space for questioning, wonder, and the people who feel displaced by traditional structures of belief.

    [Drought Resistant]
    “Drought Resistant” is a confessional poem about growing up poor in California’s Central Valley—where triple-digit heat, EBT cycles, dry ramen, and hard landscapes become part of emotional memory. Blending humor, slang, and working-class reflection, the poem explores survival, regional identity, and complicated love for the place that shaped you.

    [Escaped to the Page]
    “Escaped to the Page” is a confessional meta-poem about individuality, artistic identity, and surviving through writing. Blending sharp confidence with emotional vulnerability, the poem explores the difference between shared labels and lived experience—and the ways art becomes inseparable from the life behind it.

    [Ink as a Second Mouth]
    “Ink as a Second Mouth” explores the distance between thought and speech, and the ways writing can become a form of survival, continuity, and self-translation. Through confessional imagery and reflections on growth, identity, and articulation, the poem examines what it means to keep becoming through language.

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

  • Altars and Roses – A Gothic Poem About Poetry, Devotion, and Emotional Architecture

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece started as me messing around while listening to Ez Mil.

    At first, I was just playing with rhyme patterns and cadence—thinking about internal rhyme, implied rhyme, layered phrasing, all the little mechanics that make writing feel musical.

    But somewhere in the middle, it shifted.

    Because the more I write, the more I realize my poetry isn’t just expression anymore. It’s architecture.

    I’ve built recurring symbols, recurring imagery, recurring emotional spaces. Ravens. Cathedrals. Ghosts. Roses. Fire. Silence.

    Over time, they stopped feeling like random aesthetics and started feeling like a language of their own.

    And beneath all the gothic imagery and dramatic metaphors, there’s something surprisingly simple holding it together:

    care.

    Not grand gestures. Not fantasy.

    Just wanting to make someone’s day softer in small ways.

    This piece became about both sides of that: the mythic voice, and the human one underneath it.

    — Rowan Evans

    Gothic writing desk with roses, candles, ravens, and handwritten poetry
    Beneath every cathedral of metaphor, there is still a human hand reaching gently toward someone else.

    Altars and Roses
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    What I do
    with a pen is sick—

    the way I
    weave rhymes
    inside lines,
    with implied rhymes,
    inside rhymes.

    And don’t get me started
    on the imagery—

    I took Poe’s ravens
    and made them
    a centerpiece.

    I’ve built—
    cathedrals in my rhymes,
    altars to devotion,
    worship in reverence.

    I’ve sculpted
    roses from the ruin—

    I’ve painted pictures
    with words—
    a real gothic Bob Ross.

    I’ve talked to my grave
    in mausoleums—
    with ravens as my witness.

    I’ve sat with my silence
    and I’ve spoken with ghosts
    not my own.

    I carry the weight
    of everyone I’ve witnessed.

    And to the certain someone
    that occupies my mind—

    you still hold a special place.

    Even when my mind
    closes me off—
    it’s you
    that keeps me holding on.

    I’d open the fan for you—
    if you asked me to—

    because I want to do the little things
    that’ll make you smile.

    No questions asked.
    No sweat off my back—

    I’d do it.

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [Finish What You Started]
    A dark introspective poem about confronting the past, carrying old versions of yourself, and realizing that the only way forward is through the fire.

    [The Shadow and the Spark]
    A psychologically charged free verse poem using Mortal Kombat imagery to explore anxiety, depression, identity, and the realization that survival matters more than victory.

    [Out of Sync]
    A reflective free verse poem about emotional displacement, shifting sleep cycles, and feeling spiritually drawn toward another side of the world.

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

  • Unshaken Ground – A Poem About Steady Love and Lasting Devotion

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Unshaken Ground was written during a season of reflection about what love truly means. So often we’re taught that love is sudden, dramatic, or overwhelming – but the kind of love I believe in is built slowly and intentionally. Like a house with a strong foundation, it requires patience, car, and the willingness to lay each stone deliberately.

    This poem explores the idea that real devotion isn’t fragile or fleeting. It’s steady. It grows through distance, through time, through trust carefully built piece by piece. The speaker offers not grand promises made in haste, but a quiet vow: to build something strong enough to last.

    At its heart, Unshaken Ground is about creating a safe space for another person’s heart – a love that stands firm no matter how long the journey takes.

    — Rowan Evans

    Stone foundation overlooking the ocean at sunset symbolizing steadfast love and a strong emotional foundation
    Love worth keeping is not built in a moment—it is laid stone by stone, steady and unshaken.

    Unshaken Ground
    Poetry by Rowan Evans
    (written February 20th, 2025)

    I do not build on sand, fleeting and weak,
    where waves of doubt erode what we seek.
    No, my muse, I carve each stone with care,
    laying them firm, piece by piece, laid bare.

    This foundation is not rushed nor undone,
    it’s tempered in patience, beneath the same sun.
    Brick by brick, trust will rise,
    a home for your heart behind steadfast eyes.

    The distance may stretch like an endless sea,
    but my words are the bridges from you to me.
    Each vow I craft, a pillar strong,
    to hold you safe where you belong.

    You are worthy of towers kissed by gold,
    of walls that shelter from nights so cold.
    Not a castle of glass, fragile and thin,
    but a fortress where love will not cave in.

    I will weave my devotion like roots in the earth,
    steady and deep, proving your worth.
    No fleeting storm can wash me away,
    I am here, my muse, I will always stay.

    And one day, no oceans to stand in our way,
    I’ll cross them all—just to say, I stayed.
    Not just in words, but in presence and touch,
    to give you the love you’ve deserved so much.

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

  • I Meant It – A Poem About Devotion, Defiance, and Finding Your Voice

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This poem is about devotion without submission, and love without surrendering your voice.
    It’s not about violence or divinity—it’s about resolve.
    About the kind of care that doesn’t beg to be heard, but stands firm and says: this matters.

    I Meant It lives in the space where fear turns into courage, where love doesn’t make you smaller—it makes you louder.

    — Rowan Evans

    A lone figure standing defiantly before glowing, cracked gates in the clouds, symbolizing courage, devotion, and finding one’s voice.
    Love doesn’t always kneel. Sometimes, it stands its ground.

    I Meant It
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Every time I said
    I’d box God for you,
    I meant it.
    If the weight
    doesn’t lift,
    I’ll go ballistic—
    kicking the pearly gates
    off their hinges.

    I’ll walk in,
    ready to stand on business.
    I won’t beg, won’t plead—
    I’ll stand in defiance,
    ready to riot.
    But I won’t take
    the first swing.

    I’ll just make sure
    they know,
    it’s you—
    I’m doing this for.

    Because,
    the truth is—

    You make me brave,
    in ways
    I didn’t know
    I could be.

    And—
    it’s because of you
    my voice sings now.
    Because of you,
    I can be loud.
    I can stand
    and say,
    what I mean now.

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

  • Waiting for My Harley | A Love Poem About Chaos, Devotion, and Finding Your Match

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This poem is about wanting a partner who doesn’t try to tame your chaos—but understands it, challenges it, and chooses it anyway. Waiting for My Harley isn’t about obsession or imbalance; it’s about mutual fire, movement, and the kind of love that refuses to let either person grow stagnant.

    A lone figure under neon lights with ivy around their heart, waiting for a partner who matches their chaos.
    Some hearts aren’t meant to be tamed—only met.

    Waiting for My Harley
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’m just a Joker,
    with a heart
    wrapped in Ivy.

    A little insane,
    looking for the
    insane that’ll stand
    beside me.

    I’m looking for my Harley.
    The one that’ll push me,
    will never let me stay static,
    hardly.

    She can—
    match my chaos,
    match my flame.
    She can—
    hold the chaos
    in my name.

    I’m just a Joker,
    with a heart
    wrapped in Ivy.
    An open spot
    in my heart,
    waiting for my Harley.

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

  • Perfectly Imperfect: A Poem About Loving Someone as They Are | Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Perfection is not about erasing cracks, hiding shadows, or smoothing edges until nothing is left. It’s about recognizing the light that lives within the cracks, the beauty that thrives alongside the flaws.

    This poem is for anyone who has been told they’re “too much,” “not enough,” or “broken.” You are all of it — and still worthy of being loved exactly as you are. And sometimes, being perfect is less about the world seeing it, and more about the one person who truly does.

    “Moonlight illuminates golden cracks in a weathered stone, symbolizing the beauty in imperfection and inner light.”
    “Even the cracks hold light — a reminder that perfection is found in the perfectly imperfect.”

    Perfect — For Me
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    When I say you’re perfect,
    I don’t mean you have no flaws.

    When I say you’re perfect,
    I mean you’re perfectly imperfect—
    Your flaws mirror mine.

    When I say you’re perfect,
    I mean you’re perfectly imperfect…
    and that’s beautifully divine.

    When I say you’re perfect,
    what I really mean is…
    you’re perfect —
    for me.

    If this piece resonated with you—check out more of my work in The Library of Ashes, my living archives.