Ian Effendi Poems

I have strewn you, the listener, a tale of the ages, Sung from an old bard - no wizards nor mages.
And last but not least, I envy your youth, As I know that you still will vie for the truth:

The harsh, heavy water tossed upon the brig, Rattled the bars of the lonely prisoner’s cell.
...

Man growls as the growing tyrant rages.
The wartorn streets have bloodied me
and as I am, both sides of the war
fight to survive.
...

What does it mean to come home
every night to sad faces and sullen
dreams?
...