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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: Nostalgia

  • Blended Hardware — A Playful Poem About Friendship, Memory & Language

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Some poems begin with a carefully constructed metaphor.

    This one began with a step-ladder.

    And then immediately refused to behave.

    Blended Hardware is intentionally ridiculous. I started with a simple object and let my mind wander wherever the language wanted to take it: ladders became hoses, hoses became an excuse for a terrible joke, friendship became Star Wars, Obi-Wan became a teacher, Luke became Leia, and suddenly I was revisiting different versions of myself across my writing history.

    That wandering is the point.

    I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how much more playful my relationship with language has become. I don’t always sit down with a destination in mind anymore. Sometimes I just start writing and see what happens.

    This poem is one of those moments.

    It also became a strange little conversation between different versions of Rowan. The fifteen-year-old writer appears briefly, the Gothic voice tries to take over, and the present-day me immediately interrupts to tell her to calm the hell down.

    That self-interruption is probably one of my favorite parts of the piece.

    I can write something dramatic and immediately recognize that I have made the moment far more Gothic than it needs to be.

    I can make a joke, realize the joke went somewhere questionable, and then literally put myself on trial inside the poem.

    That is part of what makes writing feel like a playground again.

    I don’t have to protect every poem from being silly.

    I don’t have to make every metaphor profound.

    I don’t have to prove that every line deserves to exist.

    Sometimes I can just follow a thought until it becomes a garden hose, an Obi-Wan reference, a fifteen-year-old version of myself, and an increasingly concerned author asking whether she accidentally threatened somebody.

    And honestly?

    That’s enough.

    — Rowan Evans

    A surreal step-ladder surrounded by garden hoses, handwritten pages, ink, feathers, and whimsical literary objects.
    Sometimes you start with a step-ladder and end up somewhere completely different.

    Blended Hardware
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    This is my step-ladder.

    I call it a step-ladder,
    because I had another
    ladder before—

    and yeah, I got plenty hose—
    different shapes and different sizes,
    some are six feet, some are four—
    I’m glad I only have two outside faucets,
    ’cause I wouldn’t have plenty hose,
    if I had one more. (I only have two hoses.)

    You’re not just my homie,
    you’re my Obi-wan Kenobi—
    and I’m Luke, mixed with Leia.
    That means you’re my teacher,
    and my only hope, playa.

    (I’m sorry for that, truly.
    I don’t know what I was thinking.
    I’m going to…
    I’m going to put the pen down now.)

    SIKE! I lied like it’s 1999—
    four more years and the myth would start,
    a poet born with a blackened heart.

    (Dial back,
    that was too gothic for this piece.)

    I mean, sike… I lied like it’s 2005—
    and I’m fifteen with a pen again,
    two years into the journey
    mapping how I’d survive—

    and I mean me, not them—
    I’m talking the person
    they’d grow into.
    The person I’d caution you,
    against taking a pen to—

    that’s a battle you wouldn’t win, boo.

    (Wait…

    was that a threat?

    In a joke poem?

    Too far, Rowan…
    too far.)

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [Not the Way Jesus Did]
    A provocative poem about religious judgment, hypocrisy, outcasts, and the contradiction between preaching compassion and condemning those who live differently.

    [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.

    [Content Warning]
    What if you reviewed a person the way you’d review a terrible novel? Content Warning is a playful, satirical poem that uses literary criticism as the ultimate roast, proving that sometimes the sharpest metaphor is also the funniest.

    [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.

    [Off Leash Thought]
    A reflective free verse poem exploring the mind as a living, wandering force—unpredictable, creative, and sometimes chaotic—through the metaphor of a dog off leash. It embraces mental drift not as a flaw, but as a natural part of creative thought and self-awareness.

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

  • Where Music Becomes Weather | A Poem About Memory, Emotion, and Nostalgia

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    I’ve always had a difficult time describing what music actually does to me.

    People often say a song makes them feel happy, sad, nostalgic, or energized.

    That has never felt quite specific enough.

    Music feels physical.

    Some songs settle over me like fog.

    Some arrive like thunderstorms.

    Some feel like walking outside after rain when the air still smells different.

    And then there are the songs that somehow collapse time.

    They don’t simply remind me of childhood.

    They return me to it.

    Not through memory alone, but through sensation.

    The warmth of pavement beneath bare feet.

    The way summer evenings seemed endless.

    The strange certainty that tomorrow would always have enough time.

    That’s what fascinated me while writing this piece.

    Not the songs themselves, but the environments they create inside us.

    The weather of memory.

    The emotional climates we revisit every time a familiar melody begins.

    I’ve always believed that poetry and music are close relatives.

    One speaks through rhythm.

    The other through silence between the notes.

    Both have the remarkable ability to transport us somewhere we cannot physically return to.

    This poem is my attempt to describe that journey.

    Not through genres or artists.

    Through atmosphere.

    Because sometimes music doesn’t just soundtrack our lives.

    Sometimes it changes the forecast within them.

    — Rowan Evans

    A person wearing headphones stands beneath a sky shifting from storm clouds to warm sunlight, symbolizing how music changes emotions and memories.
    Some songs don’t just play. They change the weather inside us.

    Where Music Becomes Weather
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I put my headphones on,
    hit the button—
    noise cancelling.
    Then I let the music play,
    let it lead my emotions
    whatever which way.

    I drift through different soundscapes—
    crossing borders in sound,
    watching emotion mix with ink
    like paint on the canvas.

    Certain songs
    feel like humidity.
    They put a heavy feeling
    in your chest,
    it almost makes it hard
    to catch your breath.

    Other songs
    feel like clouds.
    The way they hold me
    in soft hands.
    And I feel safe,
    because they hold me close
    but in motion—
    like a slow dance.

    But then
    there are those songs—
    the ones that feel
    like warm concrete
    on bare feet.
    Like time travel,
    I’m back in my childhood.

    Back when summer felt endless,
    and every day was measured
    by the position of the sun.

    Before I knew what nostalgia was—
    only that certain songs
    felt familiar before I’d ever heard them.

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [A Heart That Echoes in Another Language]
    A poetic journey through music across Japan, Korea, China, and the Philippines, exploring how sound becomes identity, memory, and emotional geography.

    [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.

    [The Music Holds Me Upright]
    A reflective free verse poem about using music, writing, and rhythm to navigate anxiety, depression, and emotional overwhelm.

    [Global Takeover]
    What if home isn’t a place—but something you build from the music you love? Global Takeover blends sound, culture, and identity into one borderless space.

    [I’ll Be There to See Your Sunrise]
    Love has never come easily to me. This poem explores the fear, vulnerability, and quiet courage required to stay emotionally present when connection begins to matter deeply. “I’ll Be There to See Your Sunrise” is about choosing love despite the risk of heartbreak—and promising to remain long enough to witness someone fully.

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

  • It’s Just Me but Super | A Poem About Imagination, Creativity & Becoming More Yourself

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece exists because my brain occasionally grabs a pun by the throat and refuses to let go.

    It started with a single phrase:

    “Wanda the Cosmo.”

    The moment I realized it sounded like wander the cosmos, the entire poem became inevitable.

    From there, it turned into a collision of things that shaped me growing up: cartoons, superheroes, imagination, ridiculous wordplay, and the habit of taking a joke far beyond the point where a reasonable person would stop.

    The references are intentional, but they aren’t really the point.

    What interests me is the thread connecting all of them.

    Timmy Turner. Doug Funnie. Quailman.

    They’re ordinary people living inside worlds that are a little bigger, stranger, and more magical than everyday life.

    And in some ways, that’s what writing has always felt like to me.

    A blank page is ordinary until imagination gets involved.

    Then suddenly you’re wandering the cosmos. Building constellations out of language. Turning metaphors into transportation.

    The speaker in this poem never actually becomes a superhero.

    Nothing supernatural happens.

    No powers. No cosmic upgrades. No secret destiny.

    Instead, the final line reveals the joke that was hiding in plain sight the entire time:

    “It’s just me but super.”

    Because that’s what creativity often feels like.

    Not becoming someone else.

    Not transforming into a different person.

    Just becoming a more exaggerated version of yourself for a little while.

    A little louder.

    A little stranger.

    A little more willing to follow an absurd idea all the way to the stars.

    And honestly?

    That’s where some of my favorite poems come from.

    — Rowan Evans

    A whimsical poet standing beneath a galaxy-filled sky surrounded by glowing constellations, notebooks, and symbols of imagination.
    Sometimes creativity isn’t becoming someone else—it’s becoming a more imaginative version of yourself and following the idea all the way to the stars.

    It’s Just Me but Super
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    They say I’m fairly odd—
    call me Timmy Turner.
    Watch me Wanda the Cosmo,
    a trip across the stars—

    Get it…
    Wanda the Cosmo?

    I am saying, watch me
    wander the cosmos—
    it’s a trip across the stars.
    Every stanza a constellation
    shaped in star dust,
    inked in the space between.

    And when I come back,
    re-entry will have me feeling Funnie—
    I’ll write about it like
    “Hey, journal, it’s me, Doug.”
    I cannot fail, man—
    like my alter ego is Quailman.

    It’s just me but super.

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [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]