Biography of Ian Effendi
A student of literature and sciences with more than a simply vapid taste of literature.
Ian Effendi Poems
What does it mean to come home every night to sad faces and sullen dreams?
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.
The Unfinished Dream
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.
Its awe-inspiring and godly: the people
they lash out.
They cry out in anger for the blood of the man.
And with my ears I hear the sound