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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: dreamlike poetry

  • The Chapter After This One | A Poem About Hope, Fate & Writing Your Own Future by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Sometimes, the mind wanders somewhere between waking and dreaming, and the unfamiliar begins to feel strangely like home. Maybe it’s just a dream. Maybe it’s imagination playing with possibilities. Or maybe it’s a reminder that the life we’re living right now isn’t the only story we could ever tell.

    The Chapter After This One is about looking beyond a present that might not feel right and remembering that the story isn’t finished. We don’t always get to choose the circumstances of our current chapter, and we can’t simply flip to the ending to see whether everything works out. Sometimes, we have to keep reading, even when the road ahead is uncertain.

    But reading isn’t all we can do. We can question the direction, challenge the expectations, and pick up the pen ourselves. We may not control every twist in the plot, but we can make choices that shape what comes next.

    The future isn’t a page we’ve already read. It’s a chapter we haven’t reached yet—and perhaps, in more ways than we realize, we’re already helping to write it.

    — Rowan Evans

    A solitary figure stands on an unfamiliar dreamlike street beside an open book and fountain pen, watching a winding path lead toward a golden horizon that symbolizes an unwritten future.
    You may not be able to skip to the ending, but you can still pick up the pen and help write what comes next.

    The Chapter After This One
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’ve been drifting today—
    constantly somewhere in-between
    awake and asleep—
    between reality and a dream.
    One moment, I’m sitting alone—
    the next I’m walking streets I’ve never known.

    Yet somehow,
    those streets feel like home.

    I can’t say for certain where I was,
    but I had a pretty good idea—
    it felt familiar but not,
    like I was getting a preview—
    for a future plot.
    Like the writers for my life—
    were showing me,
    I’m not stuck in the story I got.

    And while it’s true,
    I may not like the current chapter—
    I just have to keep reading,
    to find out what comes after—
    you cannot skip ahead,
    that’ll only lead you down
    the wrong road instead.

    If you don’t like the direction,
    pick up a pen—become a co-writer then.
    You can’t rely on, just anyone,
    take matters into your own hands.
    You can shape fate, you can write
    for your own life—
    you know you can guide
    the plot, right?

    Journey into the Hexverse

    [Everything and Nothing]
    What happens when you’re quiet but observant, overwhelmed yet seemingly empty, surrounded by beauty but sometimes seeing only decay? Everything and Nothing is a confessional poem about overthinking, mental exhaustion, contradiction, and the absurd humor that helps us keep going—even when we’re wobbling in socks and Crocs.

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

  • Out of Sync – A Poem About Displacement, Dreams, and Longing for Elsewhere

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    There’s a strange kind of exhaustion that comes from feeling emotionally out of sync with your surroundings.

    Not just tired physically— but displaced internally.

    Like your body exists in one place, while some deeper part of you keeps reaching toward another.
    This piece came from that feeling.

    From late nights, shifting sleep schedules, wandering thoughts, and the growing realization that sometimes longing isn’t just emotional—
    sometimes it becomes geographic.

    The Tagalog woven through this poem wasn’t added for aesthetic reasons. It felt necessary.

    Because some emotions arrive more honestly in the languages tied to the places, people, and futures living inside your mind.

    And maybe that’s what this piece really is:

    a confession from someone physically rooted in one side of the world, while their heart keeps leaning toward another.

    — Rowan Evans

    Person awake at night imagining distant city streets while feeling emotionally displaced
    Body in the west. Heart in the east.

    Out of Sync
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Eyes open—
    when they should be shut.

    You’re awake
    when you don’t want
    to be up.

    It’s hard to exist
    when your day shifts.

    Spirits fall
    when nothing’s wrong
    at all.

    You’re just
    out of sync…

    Four in the evening
    is near eight A.M.

    Time is the distance
    between my feet
    and the streets
    I want to walk.

    Seryoso ako—

    I want to go.
    I want to leave
    these streets behind.

    They were never mine.

    An American zombie,
    sleepwalking
    through life.

    Because the only time
    I feel alive—

    ay kapag ako’y
    nananaginip.

    When I sleep,
    I can walk
    different streets—

    body in the west,
    puso sa silangan.

    Journey into the Hexverse!

    [They Trip on Meaning]
    A free verse poem about miscommunication, emotional exhaustion, and the burden of constantly translating yourself for others.

    [Global Takeover]
    What if home isn’t a place—but something you build from the music you love? Global Takeover blends sound, culture, and identity into one borderless space.

    [Two Americans]
    What does it mean to share a country, a language, and still feel completely different? Two Americans explores identity, culture, and the quiet disconnect between people who should feel the same—but don’t.

    [I Don’t Mean Life]
    “I don’t want to be here” doesn’t always mean what people think. This poem explores identity, misunderstanding, and the weight of not feeling at home in your own environment.

    [121° East]
    A single line of longitude becomes something more—a reflection of distance, identity, and the quiet decision to become who you were always meant to be.

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