Author’s Note

There are two versions of every poet.

The one who can write about anything, and the one who struggles to write the one thing that matters most.

This poem begins with confidence—almost arrogance—as the speaker celebrates the ability to write in any voice, on any subject, from any perspective. But beneath that confidence is a question I’ve wrestled with for years: if it’s so easy to write about everything, why is it so difficult to write one completely honest sentence?

Humor, metaphors, references, and wordplay are some of my favorite tools. They help me explore ideas, soften difficult emotions, and make heavy subjects more approachable. But they can also become places to hide.

One Honest Sentence is about recognizing that difference. Sometimes the greatest challenge isn’t finding beautiful language—it’s finding the courage to stop decorating the truth long enough to simply say it.

— Rowan Evans

One Honest Sentence
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I don’t usually like to do this, but
I’m going to do it anyway, because
I’m tired of pretending—

why should I lie and say
I’m not that guy,
when I know I am.

Give me a pen,
and I can write anything.

If a person can think it
or have an experience,
I can turn it into poetry.
I do it by stringing ink
into so many pretty lines—

but I don’t bother to try
and rhyme, most of the time.

I wrote poem after poem—
I can write a poem about the search for home
while feeling alone in a crowded room,
talking about how this house feels like a tomb.

I can write island hopping epics—

I can silence skeptics,
put their opinions in the septic—

they don’t know
shhh—

it’s no wonder they talk a lot,
their minds are empty, got no thoughts.
So the verbal diarrhea doesn’t stop—

and when I read what they write,
I call them Watson
’cause their lines are elementary.

I’ve written thirty lines of flex
and after thirty lines,
you’re probably wondering—

what’s next?

Well—

how about we pivot
from flex to truth?

Earlier I said—

give me a pen and I can
write anything.

I can take the joy, the pain,
the sun, the rain
and write a whole damn series—

it’s even easier
if it didn’t happen to me,
I can write about it for days—
poem after poem,
different angles of the same thing.

Because it’s easy
writing about just anything—

what’s hard is writing
a single truth,
without burying it in jokes
and misdirection.

And maybe that’s the joke—

I can write whole worlds,
but not one honest sentence
without my pulse stuttering.

Like what would happen—
if I just said it?

If I turned 1-4-3 to letters
and I just meant it?

Would the world cease to be?

I guess I’m just afraid—

because once I say it,
I can’t unsay it.

Once I write it,
it becomes real.

And real things
can be lost,
can be rejected,
can be held—

and I don’t know
which scares me more.

So again I ask—

what would happen
if I just said it?

Maybe you’d laugh.
Maybe you’d freeze.
Maybe you’d say it back.

Maybe nothing would change
except—

I’d finally be done
hiding behind metaphors.

Journey into the Hexverse…

[Noon Is Loud]
If four in the morning belongs to truth, then noon belongs to impossible memories. Noon Is Loud is a playful free verse poem filled with absurd boasts, pop culture references, and tongue-in-cheek mythology that explores how easily imagination can rewrite reality.

[Just Human]
Just Human is a reflective free verse poem about seeing people before borders, choosing empathy over division, and finding home in our shared humanity rather than on a map.

[Director’s Commentary]
Director’s Commentary is a self-aware free verse poem that turns the poet’s recurring metaphors into the subject itself, exploring creativity, artistic habits, and the humorous inner critic that follows every writer from draft to draft.

[The Answer Is (Yes)]
What kind of writer am I? Mythmaker, confessor, comedian, philosopher, dream-architect, romantic, storyteller, and diss-poet. This self-reflective poem explores the impossibility of fitting creativity into a single category—and embraces every version of the truth a pen can touch.

[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.

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