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
And difficult in parturition
The eyes of waiting shed tears for it
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
Do not seek protection
Does not shine twice in one day
In tearing up the map of this rotten world
We are the world
Let us make it as love wants !