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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: spoken word style

  • Graveyard Pockets | A Poem About Money, Power, and Redistribution

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece isn’t about greed or excess.
    It’s about intention.

    About money as a tool instead of a god,
    and the difference between hoarding wealth
    and redistributing it with purpose.

    “Dead presidents” aren’t worshipped here —
    they’re repurposed.
    Laid to rest, then put back into circulation.

    This poem lives in that tension:
    wanting enough power to make a difference,
    without letting that power define who you are.

    — Rowan Evans

    Paper money arranged like funeral flowers in candlelight, symbolizing wealth, death, and redistribution
    Turning the bank into a wake—
    not to mourn wealth,
    but to redistribute it.

    Graveyard Pockets
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I don’t need money
    to come to me.
    I don’t need wealth
    to be happy.
    I just…

    I want to turn my
    pockets into graveyards,
    fill ’em with dead presidents.
    Then I’ll spread the wealth,
    like I’m robbing the grave.

    Turn the bank,
    to a wake—
    cash laid out like lilies,
    big withdraw on
    a day of remembrance.

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

  • I Meant It – A Poem About Devotion, Defiance, and Finding Your Voice

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This poem is about devotion without submission, and love without surrendering your voice.
    It’s not about violence or divinity—it’s about resolve.
    About the kind of care that doesn’t beg to be heard, but stands firm and says: this matters.

    I Meant It lives in the space where fear turns into courage, where love doesn’t make you smaller—it makes you louder.

    — Rowan Evans

    A lone figure standing defiantly before glowing, cracked gates in the clouds, symbolizing courage, devotion, and finding one’s voice.
    Love doesn’t always kneel. Sometimes, it stands its ground.

    I Meant It
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Every time I said
    I’d box God for you,
    I meant it.
    If the weight
    doesn’t lift,
    I’ll go ballistic—
    kicking the pearly gates
    off their hinges.

    I’ll walk in,
    ready to stand on business.
    I won’t beg, won’t plead—
    I’ll stand in defiance,
    ready to riot.
    But I won’t take
    the first swing.

    I’ll just make sure
    they know,
    it’s you—
    I’m doing this for.

    Because,
    the truth is—

    You make me brave,
    in ways
    I didn’t know
    I could be.

    And—
    it’s because of you
    my voice sings now.
    Because of you,
    I can be loud.
    I can stand
    and say,
    what I mean now.

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