Biography of Iman Sadikeen
I did not have much to do with poetry once, it was never my line of interest.I started writing poems as a means of escaping from the mental agony I was put through by a bad experience.Most of my poems were inspired and influenced by sensations born from my hurt emotions. My poems mostly come out under stressed moments when I am very much sad.So naturally the my poems acquire an air of pathos about them.lets just say I am at my best when I am sad.
I sum it all up that my poetic self is my alter ego that deals with my pent-up emotions, which keeps me running as a ordinary human being.
Iman Sadikeen Poems
She Walks Alone In A Garden Of Gloom
Yonder, she walks, a mirthless soul Limp and lifeless as a solitary corpse. Darkness gathers with no silver about Isolated she be, in an island of tears.
A Circle He Drew
Drawing a circle around I 'Stay in bounds'told he, 'Cross not the line' 'We shall be mere fellows'added he.
The Race Horse
Lush meadows along rippling streams pass I When I be racing in one eternal track This one I chose not but the dictating Fate! Driven by his mistress Necessity indeed!
The Weaver Of Dreams
A weaver of vivid dreams she be, Spinning them with the yarn of despair, Knots them she does with blind hopes, Conjuring a life of warmth and care.
The Lost Child
A child of innocence he was in birth neglected and left on his own Lost in his world Until the strange one with filth
To The Reformed Heart
Found you were from the darkness Bright as a new star from the blackness of space A beautiful heart, hidden under all that evil masquerade still it could not smother your nobler self
Walking A Path All Green
This path all green, we walk Not greener as the hopes that bloom in my heart. Sheltered by Pine, so tall on either side Not so towering yet as you by me side.
My Baby Cries
My baby cries in her silvery eyes Drop after drop, staining her pinky face Every dropp that streams holding what? I wish I did know to tell!
The Gesture Unknown
A sign, a gesture received unknown From whence I wonder The mate I treasure or the fiend with a conspiring mind
The Creeping Centipede
Slightering about walls this cent- footed being, One hundred feet or tongues ponder I over its deeds Smallish and concealing from keen sight of search Its prominence so trivial at a glance had you seen
A Prayer For My Love
Shunned meself from reaching your pole Smothered my breath for it drifted your way Shed many a dropp from anguish of heart But not any of it
Horns But Not Wings
A pair of them, those wings I believed I held Spreading them wide and high Longed I to journey the skies
Shielded and hidden Her beauty from strange eyes. Would not it suffice? Her virtue alone
A Mystery Man
I followed as would your shadow Did you not see it? Are you as virtuous as I dream you to be?
Let go! Let go!
Release me from this hole
Trapped in a dungeon so dark
Where no light or hope had ever shone!
Imprisoned by whom I know not to say
... And there I hear them, the dear ones
Calling out my name
Trying reach my abandoned soul.
Break through the Iron wall