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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: Ink

  • Fine, Fire It Is | A Playful Metaphor Poem by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Sometimes a metaphor refuses to behave.

    This piece started with ice, took a few unexpected detours through pop-culture references, and eventually decided that being “cold” was nowhere near the right description anyway.

    So I stopped fighting the metaphor and let the fire take over.

    Because sometimes the pen doesn’t freeze.

    It smolders.

    — Rowan Evans

    A poet writing with a smoking pen as melting ice gives way to flames and glowing embers.
    The metaphor started cold. The pen decided it had something hotter to say.

    Fine, Fire It Is
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’ll drop a Frozen bar because I’m cold—
    Emma Frost—hold on—that reference doesn’t land,
    it’s not ice, her skin turns to diamonds, man.

    It wasn’t in reference to her skin—

    well, what was it then?

    Her cold ass personality, duh, that’s the reality—
    she’s not nice, she’s mean—a real Ice Queen.

    Could have gotten there faster
    with Iceman, Bobby Drake—

    Or better yet, I could have said—
    I’ll drop a Frozen bar, because I’m cold—
    like Frozone, where’s my super suit?

    Fine.
    We’ll skip ice.

    That’d be nice,
    right?

    Cool—
    no, wait—
    not cool.
    We said we’re done with that.

    Fine then,
    fire it is—

    I pen flames,
    draggin’ ink across the page
    like a dragon’s rage—
    scorchin’ margins,
    burnin’ through the lines
    like I’m tryin’ to cremate the rhyme.

    See?
    This is why I shouldn’t switch metaphors—
    I get carried away,
    turn a spark into a wildfire,
    turn a wildfire into a prophecy,
    turn a prophecy into a punchline.

    But whatever—
    heat fits better anyway.
    I’m not cold,
    I’m molten—
    I don’t freeze,
    I smolder.

    And if ice didn’t land,
    fire always will—
    because even when I’m calm,
    my pen still smokes
    from the last thing I wrote.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    [Exhibit A]
    A quick-witted, unapologetically playful poem about writing fast, crossing lines, roasting the competition, and letting rhythm do the talking.

    [Why So Serious?]
    A playful, chaotic poem packed with pop-culture references, superhero imagery, Disney characters, wordplay, and the kind of ridiculous puns that make the poet wonder why they were ever given a pen.

    [Welcome to the Hexverse]
    Step into the Hexverse—a poetic world where mythmaking, humor, rage, creativity, and confession collide, and darkness becomes something that can be reshaped into art.

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

  • Tots, Rocks and All | A Free Verse Poem About Creativity, Humor & Quiet Longing

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Some poems begin with an idea.

    This one began with a phrase that made me laugh.

    “Pockets full of tater tots and rocks.”

    I couldn’t tell you where it came from. My brain simply handed it to me, and I knew I had to follow it.

    That’s how a lot of my writing happens.

    One strange image appears, and instead of questioning it, I trust it. I let the poem figure out why that image belongs there.

    This piece moves the way my thoughts move—quickly, unpredictably, jumping from humor to comic books, from creative confidence to quiet vulnerability without asking permission.

    For a while, it feels like controlled chaos.

    Then, almost without warning, it settles.

    Because beneath the jokes, beneath the references, beneath the absurd image of someone carrying tater tots and rocks around in their pockets, there’s a simple truth waiting to be spoken.

    I spend a lot of time thinking.

    A lot of time creating.

    A lot of time turning emotions into language.

    And underneath all of that, like it is underneath so many of my poems, is the same quiet hope:

    To find someone willing to hold my heart with the same care I try to give theirs.

    Sometimes that’s all a poem is.

    A strange road leading to an honest sentence.

    — Rowan Evans

    A solitary poet stands beside the ocean at sunset with pockets full of rocks and tater tots while handwritten pages become ink in the wind.
    “Sometimes the strangest thoughts lead to the most honest truths.” 🥔🪨✍️🌊

    Tots, Rocks and All
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’m lost in my thoughts again,
    pockets full of tater tots
    and rocks again.

    Take a dip in the ocean—
    emotion overflowin’
    like the ink from my pen.

    Runaway mind,
    runaway lines.

    This much creativity
    should be a crime.

    I’ll break lines
    the way Bane
    breaks spines.

    And when I get like this
    I like to speak my mind,
    but I don’t speak in vocals—
    I speak in ink and rhyme.

    Now, let’s get real for a minute,
    just a moment of your—

    hands on the clock hold time,
    and I’m looking for a love
    that’ll hold mine.

    I guess that’s the truth of this—
    tots, rocks and all.

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [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.

    [Pointing Me Home]
    The final poem in the No Metaphor Left Behind trilogy explores dreams, hope, and belonging. Through moonlight, ocean tides, and quiet conversation, Pointing Me Home reflects on carrying hope long before reaching the place you call home.

    [Caller ID: Destiny]
    Sometimes the places we visit in our dreams feel more like home than the places we wake up in. Caller ID: Destiny explores longing, belonging, and the quiet feeling that life is calling you toward somewhere new.

    [Monster Theology]
    What if the monsters under the bed weren’t monsters at all? Monster Theology explores difference, belonging, and the human tendency to fear what we don’t understand through a conversation with the creatures we’ve spent our lives imagining.

    [Memories From a Life Yet to Come]
    Some dreams feel less like fantasy and more like memory. “Memories From a Life Yet to Come” is a reflective free verse poem about longing, displacement, emotional alignment, and the strange comfort of recognizing yourself more clearly in dreams than in waking life.

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

    [Bonus Track]

    I’ve got tater tots in my pockets,
    buried inside with two tickets
    to the Houston Rockets.
    They’re underneath all the rocks,
    it’s kind of insane.

    But I’m trying to sell ’em,
    ’cause I don’t watch sports—
    I watch narratives
    and stories unfold.

    I like the underdog—
    when their story gets told.