Story of An Iraqi Man
Dr. Anwer Ghani is one of the main flag bearers of a particular genre of literature that is called “Prose Poems“. He was born in “City of Hanging Garden“ Babylon in 1973. Doctor by profession and poet by passion Dr. Ghani is consultant nephrologist and still lives in Babylon along with his small family, two daughters, one son and wife.
Modern stylistic criticism emphasises upon the poetical elements, it’s interpretation and perception by the readers. Poet’s past personal life is not in it’s microscopic megapixel, a lot alienated from Romantic or traditional criticism. But in infinite lap every doctrine, ism has been transient and transplantable, so following a particular one would always bring fragmentation in totality. A collection of approaches and it’s filtration would probe truth in profundity.
His specific type is the expressive narrative prose poetry which gives him much freedom and vocality.
Wading through his long prose poem book „I am an Iraqi Man” is like hearing a song spreading vibes of sufism. It is quintessential of narrolyrical poetry which has many layers, superficial structure is composed of prose of soft, serene words which appears sometimes nostalgic. Deep structure is lyrical poetry, though mangled in soul.
The Prose writer is guided by lines while the poet of prose poetry avoids it, that is the basis of art which leads to fabrication of horizontal blocks, liquidating the stanza form. Prose Poem can vary in length, it ranges from few lines to many pages. „I am an Iraqi Man” is a long prose poem in which the poet has used the reciprocal language. Amalgamation of souls happens on the surface of stoic’s soul, nondualism in essence, where I dissolve in you, we and in me. So an Iraqi man represents a human soul and Iraq is an abstract land, it can exist in every corner of the world. Developing a particular style catalyses the interaction between writer and reader in constructive canopy. Semantic segmentation and style are very important for transforming the language in an enabling device. In narrative expressive prose poetry cohesive chain breaks by recurrent, repetitive self. Multiple layers layered in itself finally unfolds to the reader in the process of loosening of chain soft, limpid and simple words. Dr. Ghani is a master of that craft.
Contextualist approach of stylistic is much important here to scan the microcosm. As tumultuous and eerie condition of Iraq is soaked in Author’s soul and as Dr. Ghani believes poetry is transfiguration of soul, naturally dismal Iraq descends again and again in his prose poetry. A breakage of soul finds shelter in a genre where there are no line breaks.
Postmodernists believe in mini narrative and he rejects the grand narrative hide, silence and negative contradictions, instabilities of any social system. While, modernists believe in metanarrative. So postmodernism is both a continued form and a rejected form of modernism. The world, country and press are living in aura of freedom and democracy, but the senile, sodden, heinous traits hiding behind the whip-smart gesture are always caught by a postmodernists. In the I am an Iraqi man there are many postmodernistic traits.
Dr. Ghani says „prose is timed, poetry is timeless and prose poetry lies in the middle of both poles”.
Superficial structure of „I am an Iraqi Man” is wrapped in blood stained Iraq, personal tastes of the author and his mother, grandfather. He lost his father in war in childhood and his personal trauma became universal one when he saw his country warped in war. Deep structure of „I am an Iraqi Man” is in lyrical poetry and whole ancients Iraq seems beating in its rhythm. Ancient Babylon, glory of Bagdad are blowing in cadence with a particular dismal tinge.
Going through this book brings both spiritual and strange feelings, an eternal chain in which we all are in successive beads and this autobiography at once becomes a biography of the whole human soul.
It reminded me of my poem seawind.
A pinch of salt
that is diluted in my breath
has seen the centuries,
the littered rugged piles, smashing
beneath the hoofing riders.
They have surmounted millions of miles.
look! that ocean lives in me, it makes
in the same seawind of eternal era
which blews in beads of mine,
one me a tiny tot
I want to get distill seawind salt,
out of serene sweet talk
of the hermit and prophets,
to get it in neutral sublimation
but again and again
I proved in vain
just one your, one touch of elixir,
sucked out all salt
I have seen my prophet in malt
Author of the review: Dr. Pragya Suman
Author of the poem ”Sea wind”: Dr. Pragya Suman
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