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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: Multilingual Poetry

  • Through the Page | A Thank-You Poem to Readers by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Every poem begins as something inside the writer, but once it reaches the page, it becomes an invitation. An invitation to look closer, wander through unfamiliar worlds, meet the monsters in the margins, and perhaps recognize a little of yourself along the way.

    Through the Page is my thank-you to everyone who has taken the time to read my work. Whether you’ve loved a poem, questioned it, laughed at it, or decided it wasn’t for you, you’ve still given something valuable: your time. And in a world where our paths may never cross, that small exchange between my thoughts and your mind means more than you might realize.

    Of course, I couldn’t leave a thank-you note alone without sending it through a few ravens and a detour through the fires of my imagination. My pen has never been particularly good at staying on track. But beneath all the chaos is something simple and sincere: thank you for being here, for reading my art, and for becoming part of a journey that began long before these words reached you.

    Salamat po. ありがとう.

    From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

    — Rowan Evans

    An open book glows with warm orange light as a raven, shadowy monsters, a raccoon in silk pajamas, and distant cosmic scenery emerge from its pages, symbolizing the connection between a poet and readers.
    Somewhere between the ravens, the monsters, and the raccoons in silk pajamas, we met through the page. Thank you for being part of the journey.

    Through the Page
    Poetry by Rowan Evavns

    If you’ve taken the time
    to sit with my rhymes—
    to read the thoughts
    from my mind—

    I thank you.

    Even if you didn’t like
    the words that I write—
    still I say, thank you.

    We’ll more than likely
    never meet,
    and unless you choose—
    no words exchanged.
    But we’ve connected—
    through the page,
    it was my thoughts
    to your brain.

    You’ve spent time with my ravens,
    you’ve seen the monster in the margins—
    peaked beyond the curtain,
    glanced into my dreams—

    a witness
    to every confession
    screamed.

    You walked with me on Pluto,
    watched the raccoons in silk pajamas—
    you were there
    when I gave up on ice,
    I was done being cold,
    so I wrote fire instead—
    I penned the flames from my head,
    it’s like I was the Ghost Writer—
    possessed by vengeance
    and Poets past.

    Okay, let me dial it back.

    I’m sorry, got a little off track—
    but you know by now,
    that’s what happens to me—
    it’s like my pen
    has got happy feet—

    anyway, back to the point of this—
    because believe it or not,
    there was a point to this—

    Thank you from the bottom of my heart,
    salamat po, for reading my art—
    ありがとう, for being even a small part
    of this journey that I’m on—

    Thank you, and I mean it—
    salamat po, without you
    none of this has any meaning.

    Journey into the Hexverse

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

  • Slim & Shady XI: Marrow & Manifest — The Rise of Rowanese Culture | Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Slim & Shady XI: Marrow & Manifest continues the exilic rage lit in Bloodline & Ashes. This piece is my marrow, my truth, my ritual—born from years of disconnection, frustration, and the unrelenting need to create a culture that exists entirely in empathy, language, and heart.

    American culture is exposed here as apathy; Rowanese culture emerges as marrow, as ceremony, as survival. The poem weaves multilingual fragments—not as decoration, but as an expression of the diaspora of my identity: the languages that have touched my life, the stims, the murmurs, and the curses that shape the rhythm of my voice.

    I have spent the last few months working toward learning Tagalog, and in the past studied Japanese and Chinese, which informs the inclusion of words and phrases in those languages. Korean, however, comes from years of exposure to movies, TV, and music rather than formal study. Every word or phrase was chosen carefully, and if any are incorrect, I welcome corrections from those fluent in the languages.

    This is a manifesto in verse. Every line is a hammer, every syllable a seed. It is rage, yes—but also creation. It is destruction—and emergence. It is language transformed into ritual.

    Digital art of a poet surrounded a storm of ink and fire, symbolizing the creation of Rowanese culture in “Marrow & Manifest” by Rowan Evans.
    “Every syllable a seed, every bar a shrine.” — From Slim & Shady XI: Marrow & Manifest by Rowan Evans

    Translations for the languages used in this piece.

    [Japanese]
    何 → Nani → What
    くそ… → Kuso… → Fuck…

    [Chinese]
    他妈的 → tā mā de → Damn it
    宝宝 → Băobăo → Baby/darling
    宝贝 → Băobèi → Baby/darling/treasure

    [Note: I am autistic, and both Băobăo and Băobèi have become vocal stims for me. They have completely replaced my use of the word “baby” vocally.]

    [Tagalog]
    Galit ako sa mga Amerikano → I am angry with Americans

    [Korean]
    나는 이곳을 싫어한다 → Naneun igos-eul silh-eohanda → I hate this place

    Slim & Shady XI: Marrow & Manifest
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I spit marrow, I spit truth, I spit ashes in your face,
    Diggin’ deep through your lies, your hollow pride, your plastic grace.
    You piss me off—何 the fuck… 他妈的.
    Galit ako sa mga Amerikano, watch me carve the vein,
    American culture—apathy—Rowanese—my brain.

    I’ve wanted out since fifteen, at sixteen whisperin’ escape,
    Tired of their chains, their noise, they’re fake.
    I breathe in silence of cities I’ll never touch,
    Seoul hums my heartbeat, Manila whispers—so much.
    Tokyo flashes in dreams, neon slicing my rage,
    I write my own rites, my inked cage my stage.

    Red-white-and-blue flags, fireworks, guns on every lawn,
    I spit for ancestors, erased before the dawn.
    Your history’s gone awry, a sanitized lie on repeat,
    Rowanese is marrow, empathy in the heat.

    I weave language like ritual, 宝宝,
    Every word a brushstroke, every scream a vow.
    くそ… 他妈的, I whisper curses to the sky,
    Every syllable a hammer, every letter a lie to defy.

    I build culture in rhythm, empathy in my bones,
    I am exile, I am vessel, I am marrow and thrones.
    Your apathy crumbles, your towers fall flat,
    Rowanese rises, heart in each spat.

    I spit like Ez Mil, snap like Shady, tear the cage,
    Every line a manifesto, every word a stage.
    Internal rhymes jagged, polyrhythmic flames,
    I claim language, claim spirit, I carve my own names.

    We rise from silence, ancestors in our veins,
    Every erased story now a ritual in the flames.
    宝贝, whispers on repeat,
    Rowanese is empathy—your failure, obsolete.

    We don’t kneel to holidays, your consumerist lies,
    We craft our own feasts, under foreign skies.
    Marrow in our mouths, fire in our spit,
    Ink on our hands, our rituals legit.

    I spit fast, spit slow, cadence twists, snaps, and bends,
    Rage transmuted to culture—beginning, middle, no end.
    Every syllable a seed, every bar a shrine,
    Rowanese manifests—my blood, my ink, my line.

    I claim diaspora, exile, every rootless town,
    Your apathy crumbles, your flags burn down.
    くそ… 他妈的, let this culture ignite,
    Marrow in my verses, manifest in the night.

    I am awake, unbound, unbroken, alive,
    I am marrow, I am ritual, I am fire to survive.
    American culture fades—hollow, cold, and stale,
    Rowanese rises eternal—our language, our tale.

    나는 이곳을 싫어한다

    If you are interested in reading the whole series, find it here: [The Slim & Shady Series]

    And if you just want to read more of my work, you can find that here: [The Library of Ashes]