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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: friendship

  • Blended Hardware — A Playful Poem About Friendship, Memory & Language

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Some poems begin with a carefully constructed metaphor.

    This one began with a step-ladder.

    And then immediately refused to behave.

    Blended Hardware is intentionally ridiculous. I started with a simple object and let my mind wander wherever the language wanted to take it: ladders became hoses, hoses became an excuse for a terrible joke, friendship became Star Wars, Obi-Wan became a teacher, Luke became Leia, and suddenly I was revisiting different versions of myself across my writing history.

    That wandering is the point.

    I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how much more playful my relationship with language has become. I don’t always sit down with a destination in mind anymore. Sometimes I just start writing and see what happens.

    This poem is one of those moments.

    It also became a strange little conversation between different versions of Rowan. The fifteen-year-old writer appears briefly, the Gothic voice tries to take over, and the present-day me immediately interrupts to tell her to calm the hell down.

    That self-interruption is probably one of my favorite parts of the piece.

    I can write something dramatic and immediately recognize that I have made the moment far more Gothic than it needs to be.

    I can make a joke, realize the joke went somewhere questionable, and then literally put myself on trial inside the poem.

    That is part of what makes writing feel like a playground again.

    I don’t have to protect every poem from being silly.

    I don’t have to make every metaphor profound.

    I don’t have to prove that every line deserves to exist.

    Sometimes I can just follow a thought until it becomes a garden hose, an Obi-Wan reference, a fifteen-year-old version of myself, and an increasingly concerned author asking whether she accidentally threatened somebody.

    And honestly?

    That’s enough.

    — Rowan Evans

    A surreal step-ladder surrounded by garden hoses, handwritten pages, ink, feathers, and whimsical literary objects.
    Sometimes you start with a step-ladder and end up somewhere completely different.

    Blended Hardware
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    This is my step-ladder.

    I call it a step-ladder,
    because I had another
    ladder before—

    and yeah, I got plenty hose—
    different shapes and different sizes,
    some are six feet, some are four—
    I’m glad I only have two outside faucets,
    ’cause I wouldn’t have plenty hose,
    if I had one more. (I only have two hoses.)

    You’re not just my homie,
    you’re my Obi-wan Kenobi—
    and I’m Luke, mixed with Leia.
    That means you’re my teacher,
    and my only hope, playa.

    (I’m sorry for that, truly.
    I don’t know what I was thinking.
    I’m going to…
    I’m going to put the pen down now.)

    SIKE! I lied like it’s 1999—
    four more years and the myth would start,
    a poet born with a blackened heart.

    (Dial back,
    that was too gothic for this piece.)

    I mean, sike… I lied like it’s 2005—
    and I’m fifteen with a pen again,
    two years into the journey
    mapping how I’d survive—

    and I mean me, not them—
    I’m talking the person
    they’d grow into.
    The person I’d caution you,
    against taking a pen to—

    that’s a battle you wouldn’t win, boo.

    (Wait…

    was that a threat?

    In a joke poem?

    Too far, Rowan…
    too far.)

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [Not the Way Jesus Did]
    A provocative poem about religious judgment, hypocrisy, outcasts, and the contradiction between preaching compassion and condemning those who live differently.

    [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.

    [Content Warning]
    What if you reviewed a person the way you’d review a terrible novel? Content Warning is a playful, satirical poem that uses literary criticism as the ultimate roast, proving that sometimes the sharpest metaphor is also the funniest.

    [Chemical X]
    Chemical X explores the rapid, associative way one creative mind moves—from cartoons to sports, comic books to music—revealing that inspiration isn’t linear, but a collision of memory, humor, rhythm, and intuition.

    [Off Leash Thought]
    A reflective free verse poem exploring the mind as a living, wandering force—unpredictable, creative, and sometimes chaotic—through the metaphor of a dog off leash. It embraces mental drift not as a flaw, but as a natural part of creative thought and self-awareness.

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

  • Pulled Away Again – Confessional Poem on Friendship, Guilt, and Self-Doubt | Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Pulled Away Again came from that quiet guilt that builds when you fade from people you love—not because you’ve stopped caring, but because you’re too tangled in your own thoughts to reach out. It’s about the strange duality of existing in someone’s life and yet feeling like a ghost in it, the ache of being remembered and forgotten at the same time. I wrote this as a kind of apology, but not to anyone specific. It’s for all the friendships I’ve let drift away, for all the messages I’ve left unanswered, for every time I thought silence would hurt less than presence… for every time I thought existing in my head was easier than simply existing in the world.

    A solitary figure dissolving into shadows, with golden light tracing cracks across them, symbolizing introspection, isolation, and the hidden beauty of brokenness.
    “Pulled Away Again – exploring the delicate ache of distance, memory, and friendship through introspection and confession.”

    Pulled Away Again
    (Schrödinger’s Friendship)
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Fuck… I pulled away again—
    disappeared into shadows,
    became a bad friend.

    I don’t keep in touch,
    and I know it sucks.
    But,
    what am I supposed to say?
    I’m sorry,
    but you’ll tell me
    I don’t need to apologize…

    And I know,
    the sorry’s not for you.
    It’s for me,
    because I feel like a bad friend.
    I feel like the sad friend.

    The…
    nobody really
    wants around friend.

    The giver,
    the lover,
    the seer
    of broken things.
    The seer of beauty
    in all the broken things.

    I see the gold
    that fills the cracks.
    But only in others.
    Those Kintsugi souls,
    they shine so bright.

    While I just feel trapped…
    while I sit here still cracked,
    pieces scattered, never put back
    together.

    Fuck…
    I pulled away again,
    isolated, faded from perception.
    Because I feel…
    You’re better off without me.

    I’ll amount to nothing,
    And I know
    I’m not the only one
    that doubts me.

    Fuck…
    I don’t keep in touch,
    and I know it sucks.
    Yeah, I know,
    every—
    I’m sorry…
    It’s not for you.
    It’s for me.

    Because I feel
    like I’m a bad friend.
    The out of sight
    out of mind friend.
    The one nobody remembers,
    but somehow not forgotten.

    It’s a—
    Schrödinger’s Friendship.
    I’m both in your life
    and not.
    I am just walking rot.

    Sorry for everything
    I’ve never said,
    sorry for every moment,
    every thought.
    Especially the thoughts
    I thought I forgot.

    I’m sorry for the way
    I fade
    into obscurity.
    You’re always on mind
    but I’m afraid
    of what I’ll say.

    Will today be the day?
    Will I finally I slip up?
    Say something stupid,
    and fuck it up?
    Be just another disappointment—
    A regret etched in history,
    a blemish on an otherwise
    positive memory.

    I’m a face
    you can’t place.
    A name
    that rings no bells,
    rings no memory.
    I am
    my own
    worst enemy.

    If you’ve made it this far, why don’t you check out more of my work? You can find the full library [here].

  • You’re Not Alone | Rowan Evans — A Poetic Promise of Hope & Support

    Rowan Evans

    🌒 Invocation
    For the Wounded and Weary

    Come, you who ache quietly,
    you who carry grief like a second skin.
    Enter this space —
    not to be fixed,
    but to be witnessed.
    This is not a cure,
    but a candle.
    Let it flicker for you.

    Pastel sunrise breaking through grey clouds over a misty landscape, symbolizing hope and solace.
    Hope shines brightest through the darkest clouds — ‘You’re Not Alone,’ a poem by Rowan Evans.

    You’re Not Alone
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    In the pastel shades of a world painted grey,
    I see you standing, lost, in the fray.
    When the weight of your sorrow feels too much to bear,
    Know I’m here with you, always, I swear.

    Through the storms that rage, the endless rain,
    When your heart feels heavy, suffocated by pain,
    I’ll be your shelter, your place to rest,
    When you feel you’ve given all, I’ll give my best.

    You’re not alone in this shadowed night,
    Together we’ll chase away the fear, ignite the light.
    For every tear that falls, I’ll catch it in my hand,
    And plant a seed of hope where despair used to stand.

    When the world feels too sharp, too jagged to touch,
    And even breathing feels like asking too much,
    Know that I’m here, a whisper, a friend,
    A quiet presence with an ear to lend.

    I’ll shoulder your pain, take some of the load,
    Walk beside you on this harrowing road.
    When the clouds seem too thick and the sun’s lost its glow,
    Remember my voice, my promise: you’re not alone.

    In the darkest hours when your soul feels small,
    I’ll be in your corner, catch you when you fall.
    For even when you feel you’re at the end of your fight,
    I’ll be the flame that rekindles your light.

    So, lean on me, friend, and trust in this bond,
    We’ll walk through the rain, from dusk until dawn.
    Together, we’ll face whatever may come,
    You’re not alone—you’re never on your own.

    🌓 Benediction
    For the Ones Still Holding On

    Go now with the knowing:
    You are not too much.
    You are not too broken.
    You are not alone.
    And even when your hands shake,
    you are still worthy of being held.
    Let the poem walk with you awhile.

    Read Next (Suggestions)

    [Tip the Chair] — Neo-Gothic Confessional Poem
    [The Gospel According to the Girl in the Graveyard Dress] — Neo-Gothic Confessional Poem
    [The Hopeless Romantic Wears Armor] — Neo-Gothic Confessional Romanticism Poem
    [Luminescence &  Shadow: A Forbidden Litany] — A Neo-Gothic Confessional Narrative Poem
    [A-Woman (Confessional at the Altar of Her)] — A Neo-Gothic Confessional Romanticism Poem

    Or explore the full archive in [The Library of Ashes]—and if your own confession aches to be written, [commission a custom poem here].

    NGCR25 at checkout to get 25% off your ‘request’…