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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: poetry about anxiety

  • Louder Than the Rain | A Poem About Anxiety, Emotion, and Writing Through Pain

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Rain has a strange way of making the world feel quieter.

    Sometimes that quiet gives the mind room to speak.

    And sometimes the mind doesn’t whisper.

    Louder Than the Rain is a small piece about one of those moments—when everything outside is making noise, yet somehow the loudest thing in the room is what’s happening inside your own head.

    So listen closely.

    — Rowan Evans

    A solitary figure sits beside a rain-covered window with their hands in their hair and an open notebook nearby.
    When the world gets quiet, sometimes the thoughts get louder.

    Louder Than the Rain
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I sat listening to the rainfall,
    watching it hit and splash upon the ground—
    the way my tears fell,
    I was surrounded, but it felt like nobody was around.
    I was alone in a packed house—

    why was the silence so fucking…

    my thoughts were loud,
    they were drowning my thoughts out.
    I was so damn nervous,
    hands in my hair, I was pulling it—
    just wanted to scream and shout,
    it was the only way to get my feelings out.

    But I couldn’t shout loud, so I rode it out—
    translated the pain to the page.

    Yeah, I wrote it out…

    Journey into the Hexverse

    [My Nightmare]
    A poem about the nightmare of loving someone across distance, seeing the world from different perspectives, and holding onto the hope that the cracks can still be repaired—and that someday two separate shores might become one.

    [Nobody² (No Body)]
    A minimalist poem playing with the double meaning of “nobody”—exploring loneliness, isolation, absence, and the feeling of becoming a ghost within your own life.

    [Rose & Ruin]
    Two minimalist poems exploring the opposing forces within creativity: the thoughts we cultivate into something beautiful and the darker thoughts we transform before they have a chance to decay.

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

  • The Music Holds Me Upright – A Poem About Music, Mental Health, and Creativity

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    I’ve realized over the years that music does more than inspire my writing.

    It organizes me.

    When my thoughts become too loud, too fragmented, too heavy to carry all at once, music gives them shape. Rhythm turns chaos into movement. Emotion becomes something I can follow instead of drown in.

    This piece is about that process.

    About the strange balance between instability and expression. Between wobbling and staying upright. Between feeling overwhelmed… and still creating anyway.

    The references throughout the poem aren’t random. They reflect the sounds and artists that genuinely help ground me—music that travels across borders the same way emotion does.

    Because sometimes healing doesn’t look like silence or peace.

    Sometimes it looks like headphones on, music loud, pen moving, and surviving one line at a time.

    — Rowan Evans

    Person writing poetry in a dimly lit room surrounded by music-inspired imagery and candlelight
    The ground may shake, but music, ink, and light still hold me upright.

    The Music Holds Me Upright
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I sit with them
    when thoughts get heavy—

    the weight
    I’ve struggled
    to carry.

    My spine bends,
    but never breaks.

    They call me weeble,
    the way I wobble
    but don’t fall down.

    Standing
    on shaking ground.

    Depression.
    Anxiety.

    The fire
    inside of me.

    Flames flicker—
    entranced—

    the pen
    begins
    to dance.

    When thoughts grow heavy
    with the weight
    I’ve struggled
    to carry—

    I write.

    Lights.
    Camera.
    Action.

    The page—
    a stage.

    The pen—
    a dancer.

    Weaving
    ink-stained paths
    across lined paper.

    Word after word,
    I write what hurts—

    but I need
    the music first.

    Soundtrack
    to the chaos,
    drifting through
    Thailand,
    Japan,
    Korea,
    and the Philippines.

    Soundscapes
    helping my emotions
    take shape.

    Painting images,
    arranging metaphors—

    the music becomes
    a tour guide
    inside my mind.

    Each stop
    refracting—

    light fractured,
    split.

    A new emotion
    coming into focus
    as the sound shifts.

    And still,
    I steady—

    not by force,
    but by rhythm.

    The ground may shake.
    The thoughts grow heavy.

    But the music,
    the ink,
    the light—

    they hold me upright
    every time.

    So let the scene roll.
    Let the soundtrack swell.

    I’ll take every fracture,
    every wobble,
    every spark—

    and turn it
    into something
    that moves.

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