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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: power of words

  • Conductor | A Poem About the Power of Words and Breath by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    There are poems that ask you to listen.

    There are poems that ask you to feel.

    And then there are poems that quietly reach through the page and take hold of something you thought belonged entirely to you.

    Conductor comes from that space—the strange little boundary between writer and reader, where words stop being marks on a page and start becoming something physical.

    I wanted to play with that boundary.

    So take a breath before you begin.

    Then read.

    — Rowan Evans

    A mysterious conductor directs floating pages and strands of ink through a dark, empty concert hall.
    Some conductors lead an orchestra. Others conduct the breath between the lines.

    Conductor
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’m a conductor—

    watch me
    control your breath.
    Won’t even
    be in the room—

    you just have
    to read the words
    that I’ve left—

    you can feel
    my influence
    in your chest—

    I confess—

    you breathe the way I tell you to,
    this is what I will do—I will extend the lines,
    implement some rhymes—show you,
    that your breath is not your own,
    it is mine to control—

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [The Crypt]
    A mysterious man watches from a crypt as a woman enters the graveyard and kneels before an unnamed grave. In this compact gothic poem, fascination, death, and possession blur together beneath the shadows of the cemetery.

    [Dreaming Wrong]
    A familiar dream becomes unsettling when the ocean becomes a pond, the tide disappears, the moon loses its reflection, and nothing feels quite like it belongs. Dreaming Wrong explores the uncanny feeling of finding yourself inside a dream that looks familiar—but feels like someone else’s.

    [Did You Really Think This Was About Trees?]
    A playful love poem disguised as a forest of terrible tree puns. Beneath the birch, oak, cedar, palms, lumber, and absurdist wordplay is a poem about devotion, loyalty, laughter, and building a life with someone you love.

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

  • Etched in Memory | A Poem About Restraint, Truth, and the Weight of Words

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This poem came from the space between impulse and consequence—the moment when truth is sharp enough to wound, and restraint becomes a form of survival. Etched in Memory is about knowing exactly how much damage your words can do, and choosing silence not because you are wrong, but because you are precise.

    Some of us learn early that a look can say too much, that honesty—when fully unleashed—doesn’t fade. It marks. It lingers. It becomes permanent.

    This piece is a quiet confession of power held back, of violence softened into poetry, of restraint learned the hard way. Not because the truth wasn’t there—but because it would have lasted.

    — Rowan Evans

    A shadowed figure looking away as dark ink bleeds from their eyes, symbolizing restraint, silence, and words etched into memory.
    Some truths don’t need to be spoken to be permanent.

    Etched in Memory
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    My eyes learned restraint—
    before my mouth ever did.
    So I wouldn’t betray myself
    when I talked my shit.

    It was all—
    facts (fax), no printer.
    I did not
    speak a lie.

    But I
    would try
    not to speak at all.

    Because my eyes
    learned restraint—
    before my mouth ever did.

    Yet, they would
    always
    push me.

    Until…

    I would
    poetically
    dissect them—

    methodically
    dismember,
    until they
    remember.
    My words
    etched
    in memory.

    But my eyes
    learned restraint—
    before my mouth ever did.

    So I look away…

    to stop this shit.

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