Who is Iyke Flint

From Imo state Nigeria Second son from the family of 5 i.e 3girls 2boys Attended: Lawa Comm. Primary school, Presentation secondary school Ogbaku, University of Nigeria Nsukka. Studied: Business Education Worked with Dr Santos Hotel Ltd Working with Presken Hotel Ltd, Hobbies: poems and football. ...
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Iyke Flint Poems

  • Mankind
    Listen to the twittering of the birds in the sky,
    The honey voice of the bees in the sun,
    The call from the screeching of a cricket,
    Reminding the night of the glorious become of a beaming day, ...
  • A Dying Bachelor
    His eyes deeming like a rainy cloud,
    The chime of his voice joisting in chide,
    For on his dying mattress he lay,
    Winking and blinking in hayfever like a dying soul in pain, ...
  • Weep No More My Child
    Look in my eyes,
    What's in your eyes?
    What can you see when you look in my eyes?
    Your eyes is so meek and full of kindness, ...
  • Oh! Night
    The old man looking out from the unclad window of his tiny hut,
    He grinned his teeth and smile as the night greets his wrinkled face with it's crimson tide of a beautiful grim from a maiden moonlight.

    To him; Oh! Age how often you come, ...
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Top 10 most used topics by Iyke Flint

Beautiful 2 Joy 2 Love 2 Mind 2 Never 2 Honey 2 Voice 2 Smile 2 Sleep 2 Soul 2


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Poem of the day

Carl Sandburg Poem
House
 by Carl Sandburg

TWO Swede families live downstairs and an Irish policeman upstairs, and an old soldier, Uncle Joe.
Two Swede boys go upstairs and see Joe. His wife is dead, his only son is dead, and his two daughters in Missouri and Texas don't want him around.
The boys and Uncle Joe crack walnuts with a hammer on the bottom of a flatiron while the January wind howls and the zero air weaves laces on the window glass.
Joe tells the Swede boys all about Chickamauga and Chattanooga, how the Union soldiers crept in rain somewhere a dark night and ran forward and killed many Rebels, took flags, held a hill, and won a victory told about in the histories in school.
Joe takes a piece of carpenter's chalk, draws lines on the floor and piles stove wood to show where six regiments were slaughtered climbing a slope.
'Here they went' and 'Here they went,' says Joe, and the January wind howls and the zero air weaves laces on the window glass.
The two Swede boys go downstairs with a big blur of guns, men, and hills in their heads. They eat herring and potatoes and tell the family war is a wonder and soldiers are a wonder.
One breaks out with a cry at supper: I wish we had a war now and I could be a soldier.
...

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