Tag: funny poem

  • Author’s Note

    Some poems arrive in the middle of the night carrying emotional truths.

    This one showed up in broad daylight carrying absolute nonsense.

    The idea started with a simple contrast: if four in the morning is where my most honest poems seem to live, then maybe noon is where my imagination completely loses supervision.
    So I let it.

    Every claim in this poem becomes more ridiculous than the last. Ghostwriting the Ten Commandments. Inventing fire. Starting sci-fi fandom wars. Building the pyramids. Handling first contact with aliens.

    It’s satire, exaggeration, and the kind of storytelling that knows it’s lying while inviting you to enjoy the ride anyway.

    At its heart, though, there’s a small observation hiding beneath all the absurdity.

    Sometimes the stories we tell ourselves depend entirely on what time it is.

    At four in the morning, we confess.

    At noon, we become legends.

    This poem belongs to the latter.

    Rowan Evans


    A surreal midday scene featuring floating notebooks, ancient monuments, spaceships, and mythic imagery under a bright sun, sy1mbolizing imagination and exaggerated storytelling.
    When noon gets too loud, every impossible story suddenly feels true.

    Noon Is Loud
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    If four AM is the time of truth—
    I guess it’s all lies at noon.
    Do you remember when—
    I was topping the charts
    and breaking the hearts.

    And what about the time
    that I had to save the planet—
    I had to be the one to stare
    down the barrel of a laser gun.
    But I handled first contact like a G,
    that’s why the Aliens are cool with me.

    I created Star Treks and Star Wars,
    specifically to start beef in sci fi fandoms.
    Nobody knew, I was the phantom menace—
    the creator of the lore, everyone wanted to Klingon.
    And Dune? That was me too.

    I’ve gone to war with Gods
    over migraines and frowns,
    but never my own—
    I’ve talked about it in other poems.

    And yes, I am a sports expert—
    I know everything there is to know,
    it’s all stats, no narrative.
    Formations, players and defensive schemes.
    These are all words that I know what they mean.

    The pyramids? I built those—
    the Eiffel Tower too.
    The Hubble Telescope?
    Inspired by the childhood glasses that I wore.

    The Ten Commandments?
    I was the ghost writer—
    I was also the inventor of fire,
    the wheel and combustion engines.

    Anyway—
    that’s what I remember.

    But noon is loud,
    and the lies come easy—
    so I’ll stop here
    before I rewrite the universe again.


    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [More Afraid Than the Ink]
    Some confessions are easy to write but impossible to speak. More Afraid Than the Ink explores fear, dreams, recurring symbols, and the quiet realization that the page has always been braver than the poet.

    [When the Veil Is Thin]
    Some truths wait until after four in the morning to make themselves known. When the Veil Is Thin explores insomnia, longing, quiet vulnerability, and the thoughts that become impossible to ignore before dawn.

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

  • Author’s Note

    This poem began with a simple observation:

    Violets aren’t blue.

    They’re violet.

    Which, admittedly, is not a revelation likely to change the course of human history.

    But once I started thinking about it, the entire cliché began to unravel.

    Because roses aren’t always red either.

    And then I found myself researching flower symbolism, color meanings, and all the ways a four-line nursery-rhyme structure completely falls apart under even the mildest amount of scrutiny.

    At some point, the poem stopped being about flowers.

    It became about overthinking.

    About taking a perfectly functional piece of language and pulling on a loose thread until the entire sweater comes apart in your hands.

    Which, if I’m being honest, describes a significant percentage of my writing process.

    What makes me laugh about this piece is that it starts as a correction and ends as a complaint.

    Not about roses.

    Not about violets.

    About the format itself.

    Because the more precise and accurate I tried to make the original cliché, the more impossible it became to actually say anything romantic.

    Eventually I arrived at the only logical conclusion:

    Roses are complicated.

    Violets are violet.

    And sometimes analysis is the natural predator of romance.

    Rowan Evans


    Multicolored roses and violet flowers surrounding scattered handwritten notes about flower symbolism and romance.
    Sometimes the quickest way to ruin a cliché is to fact-check it. Roses are complicated. Violets are violet. Romance may never recover. 🌹💜

    Violets Are Violet (Roses Are Complicated)
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Roses are red,
    violets aren’t blue.
    Also roses
    aren’t always red.

    Red is the classic:
    romance, true love
    and passion.

    Pink conveys
    gratitude, grace,
    joy and admiration.

    Yellow denotes
    friendship, joy,
    warmth and caring.

    White represents
    innocence,
    purity, youth
    and new beginnings.

    And there’s at least
    four more—
    Coral, Peach,
    Lavender and Orange.

    So I guess
    what I’m trying
    to say is—

    Roses
    come in an assortment of colors,
    Violets are violet—
    and this format
    makes romance hard.


    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [It’s Just Me but Super]
    A playful free-verse poem about cartoons, imagination, cosmic wanderings, and the strange magic of creativity. Through wordplay, nostalgia, and absurd humor, Rowan Evans explores what happens when ordinary life meets an extraordinary imagination.

    [100 Grand and a Book Deal]
    A playful collision of candy bars, comic book heroes, basketball legends, and cosmic metaphors. Beneath the jokes lies a reflection on twenty-three years of writing, creativity, and the dream of building something lasting one line at a time.

    [Copy of a Copy]
    A sharp, self-aware poem about originality, imitation, and the search for an authentic creative voice. What begins as a diss gradually reveals itself as a meditation on authorship, influence, and the things that can never truly be copied.

    [Lone Wolf Theology]
    A philosophical pop-culture poem exploring freedom, identity, and self-authorship through the lens of superheroes, antiheroes, mythic archetypes, and personal rebellion. A declaration of autonomy in a world determined to write your story for you.

    [L Words & Heart]
    A playful, self-aware poem about love, longing, loyalty, and the quiet ways another person can reshape our inner world. What begins as humor slowly reveals a heartfelt confession about affection, imagination, and the faces that linger in our dreams.

    [Just Beyond Waking]
    A street that feels familiar. A life that hasn’t happened yet. Just Beyond Waking explores the fragile space between dreams, memory, longing, and the quiet feeling that some futures are already waiting for us.

    [Twin Suns, Sister Moons]
    A poem about distance, longing, and the quiet pull of someone who lives beneath a different sky. Between twin suns and sister moons, the heart keeps reaching for home.

    [It’s You I Choose]
    A poem about devotion, vulnerability, and the quiet decision to stay. Sometimes love isn’t certainty—it is choosing someone anyway.

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

  • Author’s Note

    This piece exists because I started chasing a joke and never stopped.

    It began with the phrase “candy bars” and my brain immediately decided that if I was going to use that line, then I had a responsibility to see how many directions I could stretch it before the whole thing collapsed.

    Apparently the answer was: quite a few.

    Music bars. Candy bars. Space metaphors. Basketball references. Superheroes. Bob the Builder.

    At some point I stopped asking where the poem was going and just followed it.

    What surprised me is that beneath all the wordplay and punchlines, a theme quietly emerged on its own.

    I’ve spent twenty-three years writing.

    Long enough that writing no longer feels like something I do—it feels like part of the architecture of my life. Every poem, every story, every abandoned draft, every late-night idea scribbled into a notebook has contributed to the person I became.

    So while this piece is intentionally playful, there is a small truth hiding inside all the jokes.

    The lines about Jordan, Batman, Thor, and building aren’t really about any of those things.

    They’re about creation.

    About spending years building something that didn’t exist before.

    A voice. A body of work. A universe made from language.

    The title came from one of the many candy references, but it also captures the spirit of the piece perfectly.

    Part joke. Part aspiration.

    Because if you’ve spent decades writing, I think you’re allowed to dream a little.

    And if that dream happens to include a 100 Grand and a book deal, well…

    I won’t argue with it.

    Rowan Evans


    A poet stands in a cosmic landscape surrounded by floating candy bars, stars, books, and galaxies, symbolizing creativity, ambition, and a lifetime of writing.
    Every bar starts somewhere. Sometimes with candy. Sometimes with stars. Sometimes with a dream worth building one line at a time.

    100 Grand and a Book Deal
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    My taste in music is crazy,
    I guess you could say—
    I listen to looney tunes.

    The sound comes from
    across the stars,
    I provide out‑of‑this‑world bars.
    So when we get together
    it’s a Space Jam.

    I’m soft like nougat,
    I write candy bars—
    with a punchline
    that hits so hard,
    it’s got a CRUNCH
    like Nestle’s.

    Milky Way thoughts—
    going cosmic
    every time I brainstorm.
    An Airhead?
    Maybe—
    I keep my head
    in Fluffy Stuff clouds.

    And I won’t stop,
    won’t give in
    until the Payday hits—
    100 Grand
    and a book deal.

    Every poem’s a hit.
    I don’t miss—
    like my name’s Steph Curry.

    23 years GOAT’d,
    Jordan in his prime—
    the way I pen my rhymes.
    Did it with no Pippen.
    No Rodman—
    I am Batman, no Robin.

    I built this house myself.
    Swinging hammers,
    call me Odinson—
    Bob the Builder
    building something.

    I made this universe
    line by line—

    and every bar I drop
    is mine.


    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [Copy of a Copy]
    A sharp, self-aware poem about originality, imitation, and the search for an authentic creative voice. What begins as a diss gradually reveals itself as a meditation on authorship, influence, and the things that can never truly be copied.

    [Lone Wolf Theology]
    A philosophical pop-culture poem exploring freedom, identity, and self-authorship through the lens of superheroes, antiheroes, mythic archetypes, and personal rebellion. A declaration of autonomy in a world determined to write your story for you.

    [L Words & Heart]
    A playful, self-aware poem about love, longing, loyalty, and the quiet ways another person can reshape our inner world. What begins as humor slowly reveals a heartfelt confession about affection, imagination, and the faces that linger in our dreams.

    [Just Beyond Waking]
    A street that feels familiar. A life that hasn’t happened yet. Just Beyond Waking explores the fragile space between dreams, memory, longing, and the quiet feeling that some futures are already waiting for us.

    [Twin Suns, Sister Moons]
    A poem about distance, longing, and the quiet pull of someone who lives beneath a different sky. Between twin suns and sister moons, the heart keeps reaching for home.

    [It’s You I Choose]
    A poem about devotion, vulnerability, and the quiet decision to stay. Sometimes love isn’t certainty—it is choosing someone anyway.

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