Ahmed Matar

Ahmed Matar Poems

Ahmed Matar Biography

Ahmed Mattar (Arabic أحمد مطر, born 1954) is a revolutionary Iraqi poet who has been living in exile for decades, most recently in London. His poetry is very critical of the Arab rulers, lack of freedoms, the use of torture, clinging to power at all costs. He also laments the general situation of the Arab societies. Mattar was born in Tanoma, a small city southern of Iraq in Basra governance. He is the fourth of ten children. He is married and has three sons and a daughter. Mattar started composing poetry early in his life when he was fourteen. His first poems were mostly romantic before he turns to choose politics as his main subject. He recited long poems on stage where he actually openly criticized the status quo. This, however, forced him to flee early in his life to Kuwait. He moved to Kuwait at the mid of his twenties where he worked as a cultural editor in Al-Qabas newspaper. He, nevertheless, continued composing poetry in his own journal before they finally been published in the same newspaper. He then befriended the caricaturist Naji Al Ali, who also worked for alqabas newspaper. Both artists were on the same pattern. Due to his harsh criticism of Arab status quo and its ideology, Mattar has again had to flee Kuwait joined by his close friend Naji Al Ali, who also had to leave the country because of his caricatures. In 1986, Mater finally settled in London as his last destination in exile.[6] On his poetry, Mattar said I didn't intend to make myself a school when I first started writing poetry; I just wanted to say the truth... and I did. I now can assure you that readers can tell my poetry without my name been attached to it.)

The Best Poem Of Ahmed Matar

My Friend Hassan

A visit from our trusted president
Who tours our country's vast extent
He gave a speech and thus it went:
"Have no fear to voice dissent
the days of fear are truly spent"
So up he stood, my old friend Trent
And asked him: "Mr President
Where's the food with rich content?
Where's a house with decent rent?
Where's a job with no torment?
Where will medicine be sent?
Oh honoured Mr President
Though you have the best intent
We haven't even had a cent!"
Then spoke the trusted president
With voice full of great lament
"This causes me a deep torment
To her these words of discontent
In this land, at this event.
But thank you for your words well-meant
And better times are in ascent."
Another year it came and went
And came again our president:
"Have no fear to voice dissent
the days of fear are truly spent"
Not one single malcontent!
So up I stood with good intent:
"Where's the food with rich content?
Where's a house with decent rent?
Where's a job with no torment?
Where will medicine be sent?
And, sorry Mr President,
But where is my old friend Hassan !?"

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