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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: poetry by Rowan Evans

  • Cry to the Quiet: Sacred Desperation — A Neo-Gothic Confessional Poem

    Rowan Evans

    ✒ Author’s Note

    Sometimes faith isn’t loud.
    Sometimes it trembles, raw and unadorned, in the shadows between doubt and hope.
    Cry to the Quiet was born from that place: where the prayers we whisper feel unanswered, yet still… we keep whispering.
    It is a confession of sacred desperation—a testament that even when light hides, the act of calling out remains holy.

    Flickering candle in gothic darkness, symbolizing fragile faith and sacred desperation.
    A quiet flame that trembles, yet refuses to die — a portrait of sacred desperation.

    ☽ Invocation ☾

    In the silence between prayer and answer,
    in the shadow where faith trembles—
    we gather these fragile words,
    an offering cast into the void.
    May they carry the weight of longing,
    and the quiet courage to ask the unanswerable.

    Cry to the Quiet
    (Sacred Desperation)

    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Lord, if you’re listening—
    why do I feel forsaken?

    It’s
    heartbreaking—
    to wear silence like a shroud,
    to whisper prayers into a void,
    and hear only my own shadow answer back.

    Lord, I’m crying out—
    I’m pleading now.
    Don’t leave me bleeding out,
    wounded and desperate for answers.

    I reach for you through the fog—
    but find only the cold brush of absence,
    like fingertips slipping through water,
    like a hymn drowned before it can rise.

    Where are you when the night folds heavy,
    when the weight of empty prayers crushes my ribs?
    Are you watching from beyond the stars
    or have you turned away,
    a silent witness to my fracture?

    I am broken—
    shards of hope scattered beneath my feet,
    each one a story I no longer dare to tell
    because the silence that follows is deafening.

    Yet still I speak
    because if faith is to survive,
    it must be a voice that trembles in the dark,
    a flicker of flame that refuses to die.

    So hear me now—
    even if your answer is the echo of my own fear
    know this:
    I am still here,
    still waiting,
    still believing
    that somewhere beyond this night,
    light waits to meet me.

    ☽ Benediction ☾

    May your voice never falter in the dark,
    may your prayers be heard even in silence,
    and may the light—though unseen—
    walk beside you like a steady flame,
    until dawn breaks and answers come.

    📜 Read Next (Suggestions):

    [A-Woman (Confession at the Altar of Her)] – a vow whispered on trembling lips, where devotion becomes quiet rebellion.
    [Luminescence & Shadow] – where angel and demon speak their forbidden ache, and darkness learns to love the dawn.
    [Haunted Cathedral] – a testament to love that echoes in ruin, carved from shadows and sighs.

    Or explore the full archive in [The Library of Ashes]—and if your own confession aches to be written, [commission a custom poem here]. NGCR25 at checkout to get 25% off your ‘request’…

    🖋 About the Author

    Rowan Evans (that’s me!) is the founder of Neo-Gothic Confessional Romanticism—a genre where ruin becomes sacred, shadows learn tenderness, and confession is crowned in ink and flame.
    A poet of marrow-deep devotion and velvet rebellion, she writes not to heal the darkness, but to name it holy.

    “In every silence, a prayer; in every fracture, a psalm.”

  • Luminescence & Shadow: A Forbidden Litany — A Neo-Gothic Confessional Narrative Poem

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Invocation

    In every confessional verse, I trespass across sacred lines—
    naming darkness holy, letting grace bruise.
    What follows is not salvation, nor surrender—
    but something stranger, softer, and far more true:
    love that neither redeems nor condemns,
    only witnesses.

    Luminescence & Shadow
    A Forbidden Litany

    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Angel and demon standing together at twilight among gothic ruins, bathed in moonlight, symbolizing forbidden love.
    Luminescence & Shadow: where confession becomes devotion.

    Intro:
    In the Mouth of the Divine and the Damned

    In every hymn of light, a shadow hums beneath the breath.
    In every curse of darkness, a spark strains to survive.
    We are children of paradox: the angel who aches for midnight,
    the demon who dares to thirst for dawn.
    This is our confession—carved in ash and grace,
    a love letter scrawled across ruin and reverence.

    I. Angel’s Soliloquy
    Sanctified Ache

    I dwell where seraphs weave gold into dawn,
    where gardens shimmer with dew spun from prayer,
    where hymns rise like incense—and still, my chest feels hollow.

    Even beneath these alabaster wings,
    something restless coils in silence:
    a hunger no choir can soothe,
    no benediction can quiet.

    By moonlight, I trace the ivory spires
    and wonder what waits beyond the gates—
    what secret burns in that forbidden dusk.
    In the mirror of heaven, I see my own doubt:
    halo flickering, longing trembling like an unspoken psalm.

    I close my eyes to holy light—
    and all I see is a silhouette crowned in midnight flame.

    II. Demon’s Soliloquy
    Hallowed Hunger

    I haunt cathedrals built of bone and broken vows,
    where soot clings to every breath, and ruin is scripture.
    Wings black as regret, heart scorched by eternity—
    I was forged for destruction, baptized in shadow.

    Yet even in this cursed marrow,
    I taste the ghost of something gentler:
    a warmth that coils between rage and ruin,
    a light I dare not name.

    In every ember, I see her face—
    untouched by ash, yet carrying a sorrow
    I know in my marrow.
    Her grace calls to my monstrosity—
    not to cleanse it, but to cradle it.

    I was taught to scorn the heavens—
    but my darkness bends toward her,
    like dusk leaning into dawn.

    III. First Meeting
    Eclipse of Flesh and Faith

    [Angel]
    I stepped past paradise and felt the veil break.
    Breath caught in my throat—
    she stood there, wreathed in night,
    every scar a prayer unanswered.

    Her gaze stripped me bare of sanctity;
    my wings trembled, not from fear—
    but from recognition.

    [Demon]
    I watched light cross the threshold,
    a vision I never dared summon.
    She glowed like promise, yet her eyes were raw,
    haunted by the same hunger that gnawed my ribcage.

    For a heartbeat, shadow and radiance touched—
    our pulses discordant, yet symphonic.

    [Together]
    We spoke not in words, but in exhales:
    two broken altars bending toward each other,
    drawn by the gravity of what should never be.

    IV. Dual Longing
    Benediction of Ache

    [Angel]
    In the hush of dawn, I whisper prayers
    not to my God—but to her absence.
    Her shadow stains every hymn;
    her fire warms the marrow of my doubt.

    Even grace tastes like ashes now;
    holiness feels hollow without her silhouette beside me.

    [Demon]
    In the abyss, her memory flickers like dying light.
    I claw at stone, find only emptiness.
    Every scream turns to a plea: let me see her once more.

    The weight of my damnation sharpens the ache—
    yet still, I cherish it: it means she touched me.

    [Together]
    Apart, yet bound by ache,
    our confessions echo through realms unseen.
    Even the distance becomes devotion.

    V. Fall & Rise
    Communion of Ruin and Reverence

    [Angel]
    When heaven cast me out—wings singed to bone—
    I fell; yet my heart soared toward her.
    In ruin, I found my truest prayer:
    her name, whispered in fevered breath.

    [Demon]
    When she fell, the abyss trembled.
    I caught her—not to save, but to share the fall.
    Together, we knelt in shadow,
    two exiles crowned in each other’s devotion.

    [Together]
    We kissed with bloodied lips,
    made holy what was once forbidden.
    She stained my darkness with grace;
    I inked her light with shadow.

    In our union, dawn and dusk entwined—
    not to destroy, but to create a new dusk:
    a twilight where even angels and demons
    may confess love without shame.

    Outro:
    The Gospel of Contradiction

    Call it blasphemy, call it salvation—
    but know this:
    our scars became scripture; our fall became our rising.
    For in each other’s arms,
    light loved darkness without wanting to change it,
    and shadow loved light without wanting to dim it.

    And somewhere beyond paradise and perdition,
    our confessions still burn—
    an eternal psalm of luminescence and shadow.

    Closing Note

    In the end, this was never meant to be read as doctrine,
    but as devotion: a testament to what blooms in shadow,
    what aches in light, and what love dares to name holy
    even when the world would call it heresy.

    May it find you—whether angel, demon, or something beautifully in between—
    and remind you: your confessions, too, are worthy of ink and flame.

    🔗 You may also like…

    13 Psalms of Falling
    The Bite & Eternal Thirst
    Liturgies of Ruin & Flight
    Hex & Flame: Mirror of Shadows
    Litany & Tongue: A Devotional Duet

    Or visit [About NGCR] to learn more about this movement—and if you feel called, [submit your own writing] to be featured.

    If my words speak to you, and you’d like to help keep this flame burning — or if you’d like a custom poem woven just for you (or someone dear) — you can do so here:

    Ko-fi — Poetry by Rowan Evans

  • The Bite & Eternal Thirst: Dark Love, Shadowed Offering & Crimson Hunger

    Rowan Evans

    Shadowed Offering & Crimson Hunger

    In love, as in darkness, there are two confessions:
    One from the trembling heart that wants to be undone,
    and one from the mouth that drinks deep of fear, desire, and surrender.

    These two poems—The Bite and Eternal Thirst—are twin offerings:
    one spoken by the willing prey, drawn to danger’s embrace;
    the other whispered by the predator, whose hunger is both curse and covenant.

    Illustration of a vampire and willing lover under candlelight, symbolizing dark love, shadowed offering, and hunger.
    Shadowed offering and crimson hunger: the dance of predator and prey.

    The Bite
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    In the dark, I wait for you—slowly pacing,
    Preparing my mind for the danger I’ll be facing.
    You are predator, and I am prey,
    That is usually how this game is played.
    But I am drawn to you—

    The way your fangs, brush across my skin,
    The way your claws slowly dig in, piercing flesh.
    It leaves me out of breath, scared to death,
    But so in love with you, so much so,
    I contemplate the bite from you.

    Your eyes, glowing with a feral light,
    Hunger and desire intertwine, a dangerous delight.
    I tremble beneath your gaze,
    Lost in this intoxicating maze.

    The thrill of the hunt, the chase,
    The heat of the moment, our embrace.
    You whisper promises in the night,
    Seductive, dark yet, filled with fright.

    Each touch, a sharp reminder of the cost,
    Yet without you, I’m forever lost.
    In the shadows, our love takes form,
    A twisted dance, against the norm.

    I feel your breath upon my neck,
    A shiver runs down, leaving me a wreck.
    Your teeth graze my skin, a silent plea,
    To surrender completely, to set my fears free.

    The line between pleasure and pain blurs,
    In your grasp, my heart stirs.
    So close to the edge, teetering on the brink,
    One more step, and I might sink.

    I contemplate the bite, your eternal mark,
    To join with you, forever in the dark.
    An everlasting bond, a love so fierce,
    Though it may be madness, I persevere.

    In the dark, I wait for you—slowly pacing,
    Preparing my mind for the danger I’ll be facing.
    You are predator, and I am prey,
    Yet willingly, I choose to stay.

    For in your embrace, I find my truth,
    A dangerous love, in its purest youth.
    The bite, the blood, our fate entwined,
    Together forever, in shadow’s design.

    — A pause between pieces ––

    These poems were penned last year, before the term Neo-Gothic Confessional Romanticism was born. They come from a time when I was immersed in narrative poetry—storytelling through verse—just before I fully returned to the confessional voice that now shapes my work. Sharing them now feels like unveiling early whispers from the evolving language of my craft. It was all part of the evolution…

    They hold a breath between story and soul—
    where shadows whisper secrets,
    and the past’s quiet pulse beats beneath the ink,
    waiting to ignite into the fierce flame of what will be.

    Eternal Thirst
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Do you see the crimson fire in my eyes, 
    Reflecting the dance of flames in the night, 
    As I sink my fangs into the tender flesh? 
    Feel the rhythm of your heart, a frantic drum, 
    Its pulse echoing in the cavern of your chest. 

    I taste the copper tang of your fear, 
    A heady brew that intoxicates my senses, 
    As you flee through the labyrinth of shadows, 
    Your breath a melody of terror, sweet and wild. 
    I am the predator, the hunter, the eternal thirst. 

    My claws trace patterns of desire upon your skin, 
    Each touch igniting a symphony of sensations, 
    As I explore the landscape of your trembling form. 
    I yearn to drink deep from the wellspring of your soul, 
    To taste the essence of your being, pure and untamed. 

    Your fear becomes my sustenance, 
    A banquet of emotions laid bare before me, 
    As I savor the thrill of the chase, 
    Each step bringing us closer to the edge of oblivion. 
    I am the hunger that cannot be sated, the darkness that consumes. 

    Beneath the pallor of your skin, 
    I glimpse the fragile beauty of mortality, 
    A fleeting glimpse of life’s fragile tapestry. 
    Yet even as your life force wanes, 
    I sense the stirrings of transformation, the promise of rebirth. 

    Your body, a vessel for my desires, 
    A canvas upon which I paint my darkest fantasies, 
    As I mold you in my image, a mirror of my own desires. 
    Embrace the shadows that bind us, 
    For in the darkness, we are one, forever entwined.

    Thank you for reading this double feature.
    If this piece spoke to something quiet inside you, feel free to share it, leave a comment, or explore more of my work in Neo-Gothic Confessional Romanticism.
    Your presence here matters more than you know.

    🔗 You may also like…

    Hex & Flame: A Mirror of Shadows
    Even Still, You Are (My Muse)
    Litany & Tongue: A Devotional Duet
    And many more in The Library of Ashes!

    Or visit [About NGCR] to learn more about this movement—and if you feel called, [submit your own writing] to be featured.

    If my words speak to you, and you’d like to help keep this flame burning — or if you’d like a custom poem woven just for you (or someone dear) — you can do so here:

    Ko-fi — Poetry by Rowan Evans