←

Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: Japan

  • A Heart That Echoes in Another Language | Global Music Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece started as something simple—a list of music I love.

    But somewhere along the way, it stopped being about songs and became something closer to identity.

    It turned into a love letter to the sounds that shaped me.

    The music we grow up with—or stumble into—doesn’t stay in our headphones. It starts shaping how we feel, how we remember, how we move through the world. Over time, those sounds stop belonging to “other places” and start becoming part of our internal geography.

    This poem moves through four countries because that’s the path my ears—and honestly, my heart—took growing up. These artists weren’t just background noise; they were cultural touchpoints that expanded my worldview long before I ever had the chance to travel.

    I’ve never lived in the places referenced here. But I’ve visited them in the only way I knew how: through sound.

    The references in this poem aren’t meant to claim ownership of any culture, genre, or community. They’re acknowledgments—expressions of gratitude for the music that helped me understand myself, broaden my empathy, and feel connected to places far beyond my own borders.

    What surprised me while writing this was realizing that I don’t experience those influences as separate anymore. They’ve blended into something personal. Something translated. Something re‑owned in the act of listening and feeling.

    This poem is about that transformation.

    About how a heart can echo across languages and still sound like itself.

    Every name, every lyric nod, every language shift is part of the map of how I became who I am.

    This isn’t a history lesson or a ranking of influences.
    It’s simply the story of how music taught me to feel at home in more than one place.

    — Rowan Evans

    Glowing world map formed from sound waves connecting Japan, Korea, China, and the Philippines with floating musical elements in a dreamlike sky.
    Where sound becomes geography, and music becomes memory.

    A Heart That Echoes in Another Language
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I sit in the colors of Japan,
    red and white, as heavenly6 hits—
    it’s the melody that drifts
    under paper moons.

    It’s the beauty I see
    in the filth around me,
    THE GAZETTE resounding—

    but still I say Hi Hi when we meet,
    it’s the sounds of Tokyo
    that make me move my feet—

    Ami Onuki and Yumi Yoshimura
    shaped my global empathy,
    that’s one thing I’m sure of.

    하루하루—
    I drifted,
    my mental shifted
    as I moved across
    the East Sea.

    BIGBANG made it easy.

    The Kings of K-Pop,
    guided me deeper
    into that scene.

    It was all brand new—
    it was SHINee.

    And that’s when I fell for
    Brown Eyed Girls—
    it was like magic.

    Abracadabra.

    Pause.

    Now, if you think this is
    the full story, you’re wrong.

    This is just a Highlight
    of when I was a BEAST
    for new sounds.

    Then we shift again—
    MandoPop and Canto, too,
    Chinese R&B will make you move.

    Guess you can call me,
    Kuzco—
    the way China gave me
    a brand new groove.

    With each new song,
    I found a G.E.M.—
    a sound that will
    Get Everyone Moving.

    Nine Chen hit me
    right in the chest—
    a different kind of ache.

    So when it’s time to go,
    and it’s hard to leave—
    I say “Bai Twice,”

    before I catch my
    sonic flight,
    ride the sound waves
    to a different place—

    to different streets,
    where their beats
    reverberate in different ways—

    where I land next is a place
    that feels like home—
    a sound that speaks
    in warmth and gold.

    Musika taught me
    something important—

    that a heart can echo
    in another language.

    Dionela wrapped me
    in a softness
    I didn’t know I needed.

    And G22 showed me
    that power can be
    a kind of prayer—

    a chorus you carry
    in your bones.

    Across four nations,
    I followed melodies
    like constellations—

    each song a compass,
    each rhythm a road.

    And somewhere between
    the beats and borders,
    I learned that home
    isn’t a place you find—

    it’s a sound
    you grow into.

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [The Soil Won’t Write Me]
    Sometimes survival looks like disappearing into art long enough to find yourself again. “The Soil Won’t Write Me” is a confessional free verse poem about displacement, mental noise, rootlessness, and using writing as a way to stay afloat.

    [The Needle Doesn’t Point North]
    “The Needle Doesn’t Point North” is a deeply personal free verse poem about displacement, identity, and spending a lifetime feeling emotionally disconnected from the place you were born while being drawn toward distant shores.

    [Weather in My Chest]
    “Weather in My Chest” is a free verse poem about emotional hyperawareness, social tension, and the quiet experience of carrying internal storms into rooms that react before a singl[e word is spoken.

    [Sound as a Vessel]
    “Sound as a Vessel” is a free verse poem about music as emotional architecture, exploring how international artists and soundscapes shaped identity, creativity, memory, and poetic voice.

    [Just Knowing You Has Been Enough]
    “Just Knowing You Has Been Enough” is a deeply vulnerable free verse poem about unspoken love, emotional fear, coded confessions, and the quiet truth of caring for someone without needing perfection in return.

    [The Streets I Walk When I Sleep]
    “The Streets I Walk When I Sleep” is a deeply intimate free verse poem about recurring dreams, emotional connection, longing across distance, and the strange feeling of remembering places and moments that have never happened in waking life.

    [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

    [Separate Timelines]
    “Separate Timelines” is a surreal and deeply introspective free verse poem about emotional distance, time zones, vulnerability, and the fear of losing a connection that already feels meaningful before the words are ever spoken aloud.

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

  • I Was Already On My Way – A Poem About Identity, Travel, and Finding Your Direction

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Some things don’t arrive all at once.

    They show up in fragments–small moments, passing interests, people you meet, places that linger in your thoughts longer than they should.

    At first, it feels random.

    Disconnected.

    But over time, patterns start to form.

    This piece comes from recognizing one of those patterns.

    Looking back and realizing that what felt like curiosity… was actually direction. That the pull I kept feeling wasn’t new–it was something that had been building quietly for years.

    And maybe that’s what alignment feels like.

    Not a sudden shift.

    But a slow realization that you’ve been moving toward something long before you understood why.

    — Rowan Evans

    Person standing at a crossroads with signs pointing toward distant cities symbolizing life direction and travel.
    Some paths don’t begin when you choose them—they’ve been forming long before you realize you’re on them.

    They say—
    you’re an American,
    you can’t change it.
    It runs through the blood,
    burrows in the marrow.
    You’re an American today,
    you’ll be one tomorrow.

    Sure—
    that’s true.

    American is the label
    I wear.

    But it’s not the one
    I claim.

    These are the lands
    I was born in—
    but they’ve never
    been home.

    I’ve known
    since I was fourteen
    I was meant
    to leave.

    Started planning
    at seventeen.

    Eighteen—
    applied for a job
    in Japan.

    I pictured
    walking Tokyo’s streets,
    slipping through alleyways—

    a quiet life
    in a city alive.

    Nineteen—
    felt the pull
    of Korea,
    the hum of Seoul
    in my soul.

    Twenty—
    I wandered China
    in my mind.

    But it never felt
    quite right.

    So I kept searching,
    listening
    to the shifts
    inside.

    And then—

    a pattern emerged.

    I didn’t notice it
    at first.

    Manila.
    The Philippines.

    A thread
    that’s been there
    since I was eighteen.

    Subtle—
    at the start.

    Two kids
    I took
    under my wing.

    That’s how it began.

    And then it kept appearing—
    in the friends
    I met online,

    in the people
    I was drawn to.

    It felt like
    a magnetic pull.

    In the last year—
    maybe more—

    it’s become stronger
    than ever before.

    And somewhere
    in that pull—

    is her.

    Not the reason—

    but proof

    that I was already
    on my way.

    This doesn’t feel
    like curiosity anymore.

    It feels like alignment.

    Like something in me
    has been pointing
    in one direction
    all along—

    and I’m only now
    choosing
    to follow it.

    Journey into the Hexverse!

    [121° East]
    A single line of longitude becomes something more—a reflection of distance, identity, and the quiet decision to become who you were always meant to be.

    [Coordinated of Escape]
    A deeply introspective poem about overthinking, emotional loops, and the desire to start over. Coordinates of Escape traces the journey from internal chaos to a deliberate destination—both physical and personal.

    [Of No Single Nation]
    What if belonging isn’t tied to where you’re from? Of No Single Nation explores identity beyond borders, reframing home as something found in connection rather than geography.

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

  • Polyjamourous: A Love Letter to Music, Culture, and Connection Across Oceans

    Rowan Evans

    The Introduction…

    Sound has always lived differently in me.
    Being autistic means the world sometimes reaches me at full volume —
    too much light, too much noise, too much everything.

    The static hum of a fluorescent bulb,
    the electricity whispering through the walls when everything else falls silent —
    it’s constant, it’s aggravating, and it overwhelms me more often than I’d like to admit.

    But music?
    Music has always been my calm.

    It’s the one constant that never demanded I make sense of myself.
    With every note, I could breathe again.
    Certain songs still hold the fingerprints of who I was the first time I heard them —
    I can feel the exact ache, the pulse, the quiet hope that hummed beneath my skin.
    Music has always been my way back to myself.

    Over the past twenty years, that love has stretched across oceans.
    I fell for Japan’s wistful melancholy,
    for Korea’s raw confessions,
    for China’s grace and discipline,
    and for the Philippines’ warmth and heart.
    I didn’t need to understand every word — I could feel them.
    Emotion translates without permission.

    What began as listening became belonging.
    These cultures gave me soundtracks for my healing,
    and languages that somehow spoke me fluently
    before I ever learned to translate them.

    This poem is my thank-you —
    a devotion to the music and the lands that shaped me.

    — Rowan Evans

    A dreamy illustration of a woman surrounded by glowing lanterns shaped like musical notes, each representing Asian cultures, as she stands in a sea of sound waves with her eyes closed in calm reflection.
    “Music is how I pray — across oceans, across languages, across lives.”

    Polyjamourous
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I am polyjamourous for music,
    polyamorous for culture—
    I love across language,
    love across oceans of distance.

    Japan whispers in my bones,
    Korea hums in my veins,
    China flows through my pulse,
    the Philippines lingers in my breath.
    Each a lantern in the corridors
    of my heart,
    each echo a thread of home
    woven into who I am.

    I am polyjamourous for music,
    polyamorous for culture—
    I love across language,
    love across distance.
    I bow to the lands
    that shaped me,
    even from a thousand miles away,
    even from a thousand lives away.

    And to them, I murmur—
    ありがとう,
    감사합니다,
    谢谢,
    salamat po,
    thank you—

    Each syllable, a soft flame,
    a quiet devotion
    carried across the world,
    across time,
    across the chambers of my soul.

    Soundtrack of My Heart

    The music that shaped me, that carried me through nights of stillness and storms of thought, is more than sound—it is devotion. Here are a few threads of that tapestry, songs that held me, lifted me, and made me feel home during my 20 years of listening to music across oceans:

    The GazettE – “Filth in the Beauty”
    The soundtrack to my 17-year-old chaos—every riff, every scream etched into memory. The GazettE taught me that beauty can thrive in filth. R.I.P. Reita.
    XG – “WOKE UP”
    A reminder of why I fell in love with K-Pop—the raw energy, the pulse, the feeling of waking fully alive in music. Language doesn’t matter; what hits the soul never needs translation. XG’s fire makes me feel every beat, every pulse, alive.
    By2 – “Don’t Go Away”
    I was 19 the first time this song became part of me—each note, each line a mirror for the ache and hope of that age. By2 showed me the power of longing, of holding on and letting go at once. Even now, it hits me right in the chest, a familiar heartbeat across time and distance.
    BINI – “Pantropiko”
    Instant sunshine—bright, unstoppable, impossible not to move to. Pantropiko reminds me that joy can be loud, colorful, unapologetic. Every time it plays, it lifts me, fills the room with warmth, and makes me feel fully alive in the moment.

    Each song is a lantern, each beat a heartbeat, each melody a language of the soul. Listen, feel, and know—my polyjamorous heart beats across these lands, and perhaps yours will, too.

  • Threads of Home I Never Touched: My Journey Through Asia’s Cultures and Music

    Rowan Evans

    An homage to the places, people, and music that shaped me

    A mashup of Tokyo, Manila, and Seoul cityscapes with floating musical notes representing cultural and musical inspiration.
    Asia has shaped me for over twenty years—through music, language, and the people I’ve met. This is a reflection on the connections that have inspired my life and poetry.

    Some places leave marks long before we ever set foot in them. My love for Japan began when I was fourteen, watching Hi Hi Puffy AmiYumi for the first time. By fifteen, YouTube was a doorway into a world of music, culture, and imagination I had only glimpsed from afar. At sixteen, the GazettE’s Nil album arrived just after my birthday, and with it, a new intensity—a love for the artistry, the language, the heartbeat of Japanese culture—that has persisted for over twenty years.

    At eighteen, my journey with the Philippines began. I met two young girls, five years my junior, and they became like nieces to me. Watching them grow, witnessing their lives unfold, I took on a protective role, and in doing so, my admiration for the people and culture of the Philippines deepened. Around this same time, I met a girl who captivated my mind and heart. We became close quickly, drawn together by a shared intensity, yet our paths diverged. We wanted different things, and the connection, though brief, burned brightly, leaving a mark that kept my love for the Philippines alive in my heart.

    During these years, my fascination with Asia expanded. KPop introduced me to the vibrancy of Korea, its music and culture, while Chinese Pop offered another window into a world I was eager to understand, free from the narrow perspectives often presented around me. These interests were not casual—they were devotion, curiosity, and care, each note and lyric shaping the way I saw the world.

    Over time, my connections with people from the Philippines grew deeper, reigniting my love for the language, the culture, and the people who had first opened my eyes. And then I met my muse, the woman whose presence has inspired all of my love poems, whose influence brought the Philippines, its people, and its culture back to the forefront of my mind.

    Asia has been a part of my life for more than twenty years. It has shaped me in ways I struggle to explain—through music, language, friendships, and fleeting yet powerful connections. It has influenced how I see the world, how I feel, and how I write. I carry the warmth of these cultures, the lessons of these people, and the spark of inspiration they’ve left behind, wherever I go.