Dr. Abdul Jabbar Al-Fayyad

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Dr. Abdul Jabbar Al-Fayyad

  • Member of the Union of Iraqi writers and writers (jeweler big).
  • Member of the World Writers Union.
  • Member of the Union of Arab writers and intellectuals.
  • Member of the Iraqi Competencies Association.
  • Member of the Nile literary group / Arab Republic of Egypt
  • Member of the Iraqi Internet Writers Union.

Graduated from the University of Basra College of Arts, Department of Arabic Language for the year 1970/1971 in the first rank.

The Syrian writer Ghanama Al-Mohammad has translated a selection of his poems (Southern Composers) into English. This collection was printed in Dar Jan, Germany.

He also translated several poems for French, Italian and Kurdish.

On March 4, 2017, he received an honorary doctorate from the University of Strad Ford in the United States.

Awarded (Medal of Culture) in the celebration of Baghdad by the International Writers Union on 6/3/2017

Decorations and certificates of appreciation from different Arab and Iraqi cultural bodies.


Talk to you about a man

Who wrote poetry for love to remove the gunpowder

Whose name is Neruda

He let his white robe drink his spirit in a bleak morning

And departed shouting

They came back to take my country again

But bullets do not pierce a paper

Soaked with the water of love. . .


This is who drew history by a thin body

Colored with cell breaths

That wanted to go out with him as a sway for the kids in their festival

He won its reckless jailer

To be an advocate of peace after him

About that who removed from the eyelids of Franco his sweet sleeping with the a cry of a poem

That pierced the lungs of Granada

Resounding in the ear of history

To rush with the wind to make the nonbanks  in the closed hearts

They are not gods from Athens

Holding water with a holy hand

No wise men from Orok

Receive what they lack from god Murdoch

They are not of priests overstuffed with provisions of the miserable

In the temple of Amun

They are the lords of love

That have no ritual

Except that the son of Adam should conglomerate as a charge of rejection to what makes him crushed under the above


O that in whom everything is fascinating

Love is revolution

And it can not be done unless its leader is a woman

Because life refuses to kneel in the market of the slaves

When we do not love

We do not rebel

Isn’t love nothing but an earthquake under stagnancy that strangles life?

Silence here is

The ugliest thing done by the times of darkness as a bond

That fire can’t eat


Do not deny

That the moon will visit all the windows tonight

If the place does not breathe in you

The beauty will miss what  is fascinating


To talk with  the jasmine whispers to its branch

In the presence of a beloved

Days were tired of

His pregnancy

And difficult in parturition

The eyes of waiting shed tears for it

Let’s follow

A bloody tune

Jara left on the stands of Santiago stadium

Share Zorba in a rhythm drawing

About horizons that are not painted but with hot love gushes

We have no other choice in Basra but

To clap for life

When Toman drives it to dance with the sounds of Hewa


The world is not a small village as they say

It is a great love

Neither limited by a place according to Ptolemy

Nor by time in Plato’s mind

Do you know that love mocks at all the borders?

Erase race lines in swastika records!

What earth contained belongs to it

Or sky soared

Who else has a throne

All the sultans of the earth prostrate to it ?


Let it shine tomorrow in its most beautiful clothes

So as the birds build their nests in the nozzles of the cannons

In order not hearts become black

That came to life in a white wing

To read together poems for the earth when it removes its sorrows

To bathe

Do not seek protection

The sun

Does not shine twice in one day

Share me

In tearing up the map of this rotten world

We are the world

Let us make it as love wants !

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