<![CDATA[Bronte Rowan's "The Other Gothic": Poetry]]>https://www.bronterowan.com/s/poetryhttps://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!nvDz!,w_256,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fbd6a4826-1c0b-4a7d-b186-ae06ce0cc27b_1280x1280.pngBronte Rowan's "The Other Gothic": Poetryhttps://www.bronterowan.com/s/poetrySubstackWed, 03 Jun 2026 20:09:50 GMT<![CDATA[Lured by Heather, Bound by Thread]]>https://www.bronterowan.com/p/lured-by-heather-bound-by-threadhttps://www.bronterowan.com/p/lured-by-heather-bound-by-threadSat, 24 Jan 2026 20:12:09 GMT
Once there stood a castle high up on the moor
On its grounds, wild heather grew that was the lure
Open your mouth, inhale in wonder 
Omens of the end for you to ponder,
Long ago I dragged there from the depths of hell
Sinew, flesh and bone to build my realms unblessed
Hear the rising chant, glare and let your soul take rest.
A snare embraces it, made by an angel who from the gallows fell.
   Because I loved another man, I hung
But my head severed still swore
   I shall lure, trap, torture, laugh and roar
As in the eons past in which they’ve told my lore
   Tales of anguish when I dig my nails into your core.
Open your mouth, as now, forevermore,
   I’ll burn my name onto your lying tongue.
Hear my cry and learn my secret name
But first, we must begin this crimson game.
Succeed, and I’ll grant you your free-
-dom , the ultimate release
But once in every blue moon’s evening breeze.
The castle on the moor still stands,
For no whispered story ever ends
Now join in on the requiem I sing
   Or from a rope you too must swing. 
Slice of my claws, I shall sever your head
   By needle’s stitch, in Shadowland I am your King
Forever bound to me by my obsidian thread.
Everyone has darkness inside of them - join me on my journey and I’ll regularly share mine with you - for free!
]]><![CDATA[Shattering ICE]]>https://www.bronterowan.com/p/shattering-icehttps://www.bronterowan.com/p/shattering-iceMon, 12 Jan 2026 17:29:11 GMTMy next Gothic story is already in the editing phase. However, I had to get this one off my chest first. 
The world is a scary place even without the monsters we know from literature. 
If you enjoy this poem, you’ll love my story about queer vampires who’d love to shatter some ICE too. 
Frozen hearts must thaw
Invite your neighbor in and
We shall melt the ICE 
Gaze up at the stars
Shards of hope rain and aim to 
Pierce the core of ICE
No hate - I know that
Out of darkness, love will rise
When we shatter ICE.
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]]><![CDATA[2026 - Fears, Hope, and a Bit of Resilience]]>https://www.bronterowan.com/p/2026-fears-hope-and-a-bit-of-resiliencehttps://www.bronterowan.com/p/2026-fears-hope-and-a-bit-of-resilienceWed, 31 Dec 2025 19:15:32 GMT
May 2026 be your best one yet. Stay true to yourself - unapologetically. Whatever happens, we’re in this together and I truly do believe that there is hope for a better world. Read widely, speak wisely, and (poor attempt at making this rhyme) treat each other nicely.
Here’s a wee poem I wrote today.
New year, but no new me
I refuse to become something
I ain’t meant to be.
Some things may change
And everything new at first seems strange
Other things may, must, and need to end
But let me assure you that always, you can depend
On me
The cycle will keep turning
But maybe instead of yearning
For more, let’s work for a future in which
Everyone can be free.
Love is love
And no one watches over us from way above
For 2026, we’ll say, each and every day:
Fuck ICE
And free Palestine
Every creature matters and deserves to live,
Tax the rich, they’ve got plenty and some more 
Left to give.

Here’s to you, go keep your vice
Whether that is smokes, or beer, or wine. 
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]]><![CDATA[My Promise to Margot Friedländer]]>https://www.bronterowan.com/p/my-promise-to-margot-friedlanderhttps://www.bronterowan.com/p/my-promise-to-margot-friedlanderFri, 09 May 2025 21:43:13 GMTI have always been the kind of person who perhaps feels too deeply. The way I deal with this is through my writing.
Now I may not be a poet, but when, today, I learned of Margot Friedländer’s death at the age of 103 today, I needed to put my pain into words.
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Margot was one of the bravest and kindest souls this world was ever graced with, for despite the horrors she was made to suffer during the Holocaust, she believed in teaching the world about love, for that is the only weapon we have against the hate that was at the root of her suffering, a hate that is resurfacing. 
To anyone who’s interested in her story: I urge you to read her memoir “Try To Make Your Life”. 
We may not share the same beliefs, but I know in my heart that your legacy is worth more than that of those who wronged you. 
Try to make your life
Image Credit: BEA Press
This ode is to you, Margot. 
My Promise to Margot Friedländer

Just like you whispered a promise to your mother
That you will face the pain and make your life
We promise to teach your lessons to each other
And let tales of your brave deeds survive

Now once more we see clouds of hatred rise
But love is stronger, and our hands they melt
Into each other, when for love we strive
and survive strikes of those unjust hands that we were dealt. 

May mal’ākh guide your soul and open up the door
To realms of peace and long forgotten lore
of justice where love’s the seal,
of truth that’s spoken and wounds that heal.

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