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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: Pennywise

  • Homecoming — A Gothic Romantic Poem About Darkness, Horror & Finding Your Voice

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    There are certain aesthetics that feel less like something we choose and more like something we recognize.

    For me, Gothic imagery has always been one of those things.

    Homecoming came from the realization that something in my writing had started to feel slightly unfamiliar. I was still writing about the moon, the ocean, the tides, ravens, horror, darkness, and the strange spaces where beauty and pain overlap—but somehow, I had drifted away from the particular Gothic atmosphere that has always felt like home to me.

    So this poem became a return.

    Poe is here because his shadow has been part of my literary DNA for years. Nyx and Hades are here because mythology gives me another language for darkness. The ravens are here because, in my own symbolic architecture, they have become witnesses, messengers, and companions. And the horror references—Jason, Ghostface, Pennywise, Michael Myers—are there because horror has never been merely about monsters to me.

    It is about what the monsters represent.

    Grief. Fear. Obsession. Rage. The parts of ourselves that refuse to stay buried.

    There is also something deliberately self-aware about this poem. I am not simply listing Gothic references because they sound dark. I am talking about my relationship with the imagery itself—the way the moon has accumulated meaning across my work, the way the tides connect to emotion, and the way ravens have gradually become part of my mythology.

    The darkness isn’t an aesthetic costume.

    It’s architecture.

    And after spending some time writing away from it, I realized that I wasn’t trying to become something new.

    I was finding my way back to something that had been mine all along.

    That’s why this poem is called Homecoming.

    Sometimes you don’t discover where you belong.

    Sometimes you remember.

    — Rowan Evans

    A Gothic throne beneath a full moon surrounded by ravens, dark trees, mist, and subtle crimson accents.
    Sometimes the darkness isn’t somewhere you wandered into. Sometimes it’s the place where your voice has always felt most at home.

    Homecoming
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’ve been writing like
    I forgot which domain is mine,
    I’m of the darkness—
    just borrowed the light,
    and made Poe’s throne my birthright.

    I’m a gothic romantic,
    I bleed for the art—
    I’ve kissed the lips of Nyx
    and wandered through
    the realm of Hades.

    I’m a poltergeist in life,
    but at night I come alive—
    witching hour is when I thrive.

    I pray to the moon
    and curse the sun—
    I ascend to the throne
    that Poe had spun.

    I watch the ravens—
    carrying messages where they fly,
    eyes locked, tracking the treachery across the sky.
    They are always watching—
    silent witnesses to the rot inside.

    It started to feel like something
    in my pieces was missing—
    like where was the gothic lace,
    silk and satin sin, velvet and venom.

    There was too much light—
    even when ninety percent
    of my imagery is night adjacent,
    weaving in horror rhymes—
    Friday the 13th, Night of Jason.

    The moon in my rhymes has meaning,
    when I write lines like the tides—I mean it,
    even in my Ghostface cadence—
    what’s your favorite scary movie?
    Pennywise of the mind, sewer of thought—
    I’m a monster like Michael,
    when I chase—I don’t run, I walk.

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [The Monster in the Margins]
    Drawing inspiration from horror icons like Michael Myers, Ghostface, Freddy Krueger, and Pennywise, this poem explores the darker side of creativity—where inspiration becomes an unstoppable force lurking just beyond the edge of the page.

    [The Monster in the Margins II]
    The Monster in the Margins II transforms Rowan Evans’s Seven Deadly Sins mythology into a horror story written between the lines, where Lust, Wrath, Sloth, Greed, Pride, Envy, and Gluttony become monsters growing from pain, grudges, and scars.

    [The Unkindness Descends]
    “The Unkindness Descends” is a Gothic symbolic poem exploring collapse, transformation, and the unsettling experience of being witnessed during moments of unraveling. Through raven imagery, ambiguity, and ritualistic atmosphere, the poem invites multiple interpretations—spiritual, psychological, ominous, or transformative.

    [Gospel in Crimson]
    When writing becomes ritual and love becomes devotion, the line between creation and worship begins to blur. Gospel in Crimson explores obsession, artistry, and the sacred act of expression.

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

  • The Monster in the Margins | A Horror Poetry Tribute to Creative Obsession

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    I’ve always loved horror—not for the blood or the jump scares, but because horror understands metaphor.

    The best monsters are never just monsters.

    They’re grief. They’re guilt. They’re obsession. They’re the parts of ourselves we’d rather keep locked in the basement.

    This poem started as a playful exercise in horror references. I wanted to see how many iconic slasher and supernatural figures I could weave together without losing the rhythm.

    But somewhere along the way, the references stopped being the point.

    The “monster” became the creative voice itself.

    The one that refuses to stay quiet. The one that follows me from notebook to notebook, insisting on another poem, another line, another draft.

    Writers often talk about inspiration as something beautiful.

    Sometimes it is.

    Sometimes it’s relentless.

    Sometimes it feels less like a muse…

    and more like the monster waiting patiently in the margins until you pick up the pen again.

    — Rowan Evans

    An open notebook with dark ink spreading through the margins like ghostly shadows beneath a dim desk lamp.
    “Every writer knows the feeling—the story isn’t always waiting on the page. Sometimes it’s waiting in the margins.”

    The Monster in the Margins
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’m a literary slasher villain,
    Michael Myers with a pen.
    I’m a humorous menace,
    a terror with a clown’s face—

    Pennywise in my rhymes,
    with a Ghostface rhythm.
    It’s Kruger in the cadence,
    you can try and imitate it.

    I’m the ghost that haunts
    these old bones—
    the groan in the rafters
    of this old home—
    I’m the eyes you can’t seem to shake,
    the reason you never feel alone.

    My poetry is a whisper
    in an empty room,
    the cold chill in the air—
    I weave lines with rhymes
    like hidden messages
    in the mirror.

    Bloody Mary.
    Redrum—

    a horror scene
    on college-ruled—
    notebook full
    of nightmare fuel.

    I am the Pulse
    in the Infection,
    the killer’s Resurrection.

    Red tape won’t stop this.
    It’s a ritual, no control—
    you’ve lost it.

    I’m the creeping dread,
    the scream inside your head.
    The tingle in your spine—
    a voice echoing to no end.

    I’m the shadow you cast in your own mind—
    the part of you that never dies.

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [Returning to My Bones] – Rowan Evans
    Some dreams fade the moment we wake. Others leave behind emotions that linger long after reality returns. Returning to My Bones explores the strange grief of leaving a dream that felt real enough to matter.

    [Before My Feet Touch the Floor] – Rowan Evans
    What happens when your dreams feel more real than your waking life? Before My Feet Touch the Floor explores the strange grief of waking up, the lingering memory of dream selves, and the quiet question of which version of us is truly real.

    [The Hunted] – B.D. Nightshade
    Under a blood-red Oklahoma moon, predators stalk the silent fields—and one soul learns what it means to be chosen by the night.

    [Cannibal Carnival] – B.D. Nightshade
    A carnival arrives under cover of mist—bright tents, painted smiles, and a hunger that won’t stay hidden. By morning, only whispers remain.

    [Ouija]– B.D. Nightshade
    A grieving soul seeks comfort through a Ouija board—only to discover that not every voice from the dark belongs to the dead we miss.

    [Before the Glass Shattered] – B.D. Nightshade
    Before the glass shatters, shadows linger and memories twist. Discover the haunting prelude to B.D. Nightshade’s “Through the Shattered Glass” series—where ordinary moments become portals to fractured realities.

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