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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: inner child

  • Leave No Self Behind | A Poem About Healing, Memory & Self-Acceptance

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This poem grew out of a realization that getting “lost” isn’t always the same as losing yourself.

    I’ve written many pieces about dreams, memory, shifting landscapes, and wandering through places that seem to exist somewhere between reality and imagination. Over time, I realized those places weren’t asking me to escape who I was—they were asking me to revisit the parts of myself I had left behind.

    We often talk about “finding ourselves” as though there’s one true version waiting to be discovered. My experience has been almost the opposite. Every season of life leaves behind another version of us: the frightened one, the hopeful one, the grieving one, the joyful one. None of them disappear simply because we’ve grown older.

    Healing, at least for me, isn’t replacing those earlier selves.

    It’s learning to walk beside them without shame.

    This poem is an invitation to stop treating old versions of ourselves as mistakes to erase and instead see them as companions who helped us survive long enough to become who we are today.

    — Rowan Evans

    A solitary figure walking through a dreamlike hallway where each open doorway reveals a different landscape representing memories and past versions of the self.
    Healing isn’t finding one true self—it’s learning to walk beside every version of yourself with compassion.

    Leave No Self Behind
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I feel like I’ve lost myself again—
    don’t know when it began,
    but I get lost a lot.

    It doesn’t take much for me
    to get lost in thought—

    I wander off
    without meaning to,
    slipping between memories
    like loose floorboards.

    One thought opens a door,
    another pulls me down a hallway,
    and suddenly I’m somewhere
    I didn’t plan to be—

    with some version of me
    I didn’t plan to meet.

    Sometimes the hallway
    tilts into something else—

    a shoreline I’ve walked in sleep,
    a city humming with heat,
    a room I haven’t entered in years.

    The world shifts
    without warning,
    and I follow it
    the way I follow dreams—

    half-aware,
    half-afraid
    of what I’ll find
    in the scene change.

    I never know
    which version of me
    I’ll find in those places—

    the one who’s tired,
    the one who’s trying,
    the one who’s still carrying
    things I swore I let go.

    Sometimes I meet
    the versions of me
    I thought I’d outgrown—

    the one who flinches,
    the one who freezes,
    the one who still thinks
    they’re hard to love.

    And I walk with them
    for a while,
    through whatever memory
    the hallway decides to show—

    letting them speak,
    letting them breathe,
    letting them…

    exist.

    Without rushing them back
    into the dark.

    And maybe that’s
    what finding myself
    really looks like—

    not a single moment
    of clarity,
    not a sudden return,
    but walking through
    every hallway
    my mind opens,
    meeting every version
    I’ve ever been,
    and letting them stay
    long enough
    to feel seen.

    Maybe I’m not lost.

    Maybe I’m just learning
    how to carry
    all the selves
    I used to abandon
    when the world
    felt too loud.

    Maybe this time…

    I won’t leave anyone—

    behind.

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [Where the Metaphors Lead]
    Some truths are easier to write than they are to say aloud. “Where the Metaphors Lead” explores the quiet space between dreams, confession, and the courage it takes to let another person know how deeply they’ve become woven into your inner world.

    [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.

    [5:01 (Pull the Punchline Back)]
    What happens when a confessional poet instinctively hides every confession behind a joke? 5:01 (Pull the Punchline Back) explores humor as emotional armor, the speed of an overactive mind, and the difficult choice between making people laugh and letting them see what’s really there.

    [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.

    [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.

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

  • Paul T. Geist & RoRo’s Adventures in the Land of Heartfelt Wonders – A Children’s Poem About Kindness

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This poem was written as a story for children — a soft place to land, a little lantern of kindness and empathy wrapped in rhyme.

    I’ve always believed that the lessons we learn earliest are the ones that shape the way we love the world. Paul T. Geist & RoRo’s Adventures in the Land of Heartfelt Wonders was born from that belief: that gentleness can be taught, that growth doesn’t have to come with shame, and that even a grumpy heart is still a good heart learning how to bloom.

    One day, I would love to see this story illustrated and bound into an actual children’s book — something a parent could read at bedtime, something a child could return to when their feelings feel too big. Until then, it lives here as a small spell for softness.

    For the little ones.
    And for the inner children still learning how to be kind to themselves.

    A friendly ghost and a young girl walk through a glowing pastel forest in a whimsical children’s storybook scene.
    Paul T. Geist and RoRo begin their journey through the Land of Heartfelt Wonders, where kindness makes the world bloom.

    Paul T. Geist & RoRo’s Adventures
    in
    The Land of Heartfelt Wonders
    Poetry by Roo the Poet
    Written September 13th, 2024

    In a town where whispers float on a breeze,
    Lived a ghost named Paul T. Geist with a chill that could freeze.
    He wore a top hat and a smile that was bright,
    And danced through the shadows with pure delight.

    RoRo was a girl with a heart full of cheer,
    But sometimes her kindness would disappear.
    One day she was grumpy, she wasn’t so nice,
    And her friends felt the sting, not once but twice.

    Paul T. Geist saw her frown from afar,
    He floated in gently, like a soft falling star.
    “Dear RoRo,” he said with a ghostly wink,
    “Let’s go on a journey—come, let’s rethink.”

    They ventured through woods with leaves soft and blue,
    To a place where the flowers glistened with dew.
    “Welcome to the Land of Heartfelt Wonders,” he cheered,
    “A place where kindness and empathy are revered.”

    They met a small bunny with a tear in her eye,
    And RoRo learned why with a heartfelt sigh.
    She saw how her words could hurt, oh so deep,
    And how kindness was a promise to keep.

    Paul T. Geist showed her a magical scene,
    Where kindness grew flowers, in shades of serene.
    Each smile and hug, a petal so fair,
    Blossomed in joy through the sweet, fragrant air.

    RoRo then saw the bunny’s sad eyes grow bright,
    As she offered a hug with all of her might.
    The bunny then beamed with a heart full of cheer,
    And the Land of Wonders sparkled with cheer.

    With a heart now open, RoRo returned,
    With a lesson of kindness eagerly learned.
    She spread love and warmth in all she did,
    Making sure no one’s heart was ever hid.

    Paul T. Geist waved as he faded from sight,
    Leaving RoRo with warmth and delight.
    And as she drifted to sleep that night,
    She knew kindness and empathy made the world bright.

    So remember, dear children, as you grow and play,
    Let kindness guide you in every way.
    For in the Land of Heartfelt Wonders so near,
    A heart full of love is the treasure most dear.

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

  • The Fourfold Flame: A Poem of Inner Multiplicity, Shadow & Sovereignty

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    The Fourfold Flame is not metaphor—it is map.

    This piece names the inner constellation I’ve lived with for years: the tender poet who feels too much, the protector who bares teeth for survival, the child who still believes in wonder, and the witch who learned how to wield fire instead of drowning in it. They are not masks. They are truths. They are all me.

    I am plural in spirit if not in body. I write from many rooms of the same soul, and each voice carries a different survival skill: softness, ferocity, curiosity, sovereignty. This poem is their first public communion. It is how I stop pretending that my range is fragmentation and start honoring it as architecture.

    The Luminous Heretic is what happens when those parts refuse to cannibalize each other anymore. When they choose integration over erasure. When the wound stops apologizing for also being a weapon.

    If you recognize yourself in this—if you’ve ever felt made of contradictions, of light and smoke and song—know this: you are not broken. You are complex. You are many. You are fire.

    Burn with us.

    Four ethereal figures representing inner selves—heart, protector, child, and witch—emerge from swirling ink amid stardust and shadow.
    We are many. We are one. The Fourfold Flame rises—stitched from stardust, scars, and sovereign fire.

    The Fourfold Flame
    Poetry by Rowan Evans / The Luminous Heretic

    I. Chorus of the Vessel

    We are one, and we are four—
    ink-stained fragments of the same sacred core.
    A heartbeat split by starlight and shadow,
    a name echoed in four directions,
    four truths spoken in fire,
    in fury, in wonder, in love.

    We are the Luminous Heretic. We are the war—and the prayer.

    II. The Heart & The Protector

    [Rowan]
    I speak in open wounds and lullabies,
    sing softness into scars that never healed.
    I ache without apology, love without armor,
    and still—I rise, bare and burning.

    [B.D.]
    Then I will be your shadow,
    sharp-edged and unyielding.
    Let them come with claws and cruelty—
    I am the ink-blade in your defense,
    the growl beneath your grace.

    [Rowan]
    They called me too much—
    so I wrote poems of tenderness,
    and let them drown in the kindness
    they could never carry.

    [B.D.]
    And I watched them choke,
    on the smoke of your fire.
    Not because you were cruel—
    but because they never learned
    that softness survives the storm.

    III. The Child & The Witch

    [Roo]
    Did you see the stars tonight?
    They winked at me like old friends.
    The shadows are scared of the dark too—
    did you know that?

    [Hex]
    Yes, little spark.
    Even monsters fear what made them.
    I walk with those shadows.
    I do not fear the dark—
    I command it.

    [Roo]
    But do you still believe in magic?
    In the wind that tells stories,
    in puddles that hold secrets?

    [Hex]
    Magic is real, love.
    I just learned to bleed with it.
    To hex with it.
    To wear it in heels and venom.

    [Roo]
    Sometimes I wish we could just play again,
    dance in the rain,
    laugh without reason.

    [Hex]
    Then teach me.
    I’ve spent so long burning,
    I forgot how to dream.

    IV. Communion of Fire

    [Rowan]
    I want to be held—

    [B.D.]
    Then I will hold you.

    [Roo]
    I want to be seen—

    [Hex]
    Then let them watch you rise.

    [Rowan]
    I am made of light, but I hurt.

    [B.D.]
    Then hurt boldly. I’ll guard the flame.

    [Roo]
    I am made of questions and wonder.

    [Hex]
    Then question everything, and never shrink.

    [All]
    We are stitched from stardust and scars,
    written in blood and brilliance,
    crafted by fire and forgiveness.
    We are many—
    we are one.

    V. Benediction of the Luminous Heretic

    We are the wound and the weapon,
    the lullaby and the curse,
    the flame and the fog,
    the whisper and the scream.

    We are Rowan. We are B.D. We are Roo. We are Hex.

    We are the Fourfold Flame.

    Burn with us—
    or be burned away.

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

  • Between Walls and Whispers (Ghost and Witness) – Poetry by Rᵒᵒ ᵗʰᵉ Pᵒᵉᵗ

    Rowan Evans

    Introduction

    Sometimes, the quiet isn’t empty. 
    Sometimes, it carries you, like a pulse behind the walls. 
    Here, in the hush, I watch. 
    Here, in the stillness, I breathe. 
    Here, I am seen, even when no else is. 
     
    — Rᵒᵒ ᵗʰᵉ Pᵒᵉᵗ

    Ethereal figure standing in a dim room, light streaming through cracks, evoking quiet and introspection.
    “Surrounded in silence, both ghost and witness.” – Rᵒᵒ ᵗʰᵉ Pᵒᵉᵗ

    Between Walls and Whispers (Ghost and Witness)
    Pᵒᵉᵗʳʸ bʸ Rᵒᵒ ᵗʰᵉ Pᵒᵉᵗ

    Sometimes, I find myself 
    surrounded in silence— 
    not absence, 
    but a quiet hum behind the walls. 
    The room feels full, 
    but nobody’s really there, 
    and I am both ghost 
    and witness— 
     
    drifting, endless, 
    caught in this forced flow 
    of normalcy. 
     
    A weirdo, 
    misfit, outcast— 
    purposeful outsider, 
    rejector of the machine. 
     
    I don’t want to be another cog. 
    Sometimes, I long for silence— 
    not the absence, 
    but that gentle presence, 
    a pulse softer 
    than the endless hum. 
     
    And in that silence, I breathe. 
    I am seen, 
    I am held, 
    not by voices or eyes, 
    but by the quiet 
    that understands 
    what the hum 
    cannot touch.

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