Fawzi al-Bakri: An Acerbic Local Poet Who Gave Voice to the Poor of Jerusalem

“The punk poet of Jerusalem’s poor is dead; everyone loved him and feared his poetry,”1 said well-known poet and journalist Nabil al-Jolani about his lifelong friend, renowned Jerusalemite poet Fawzi al-Bakri, who passed away on October 13, 2025, in Jerusalem.

“Fawzi did not submit to any of the standards that we know; he did not compromise or act hypocritically; he was a fighter who lived in tough economic conditions,” Nabil said. “He attacked everyone, he wrote poetry, spoke on behalf of the oppressed, and was close to the poor; all of these things combined earned him the title of the vagabond of Jerusalem.”

Nabil shared with Jerusalem Story memories of Fawzi before his passing. “We used to meet daily at Abu Hamid al-Bakri’s café on Salah al-Din Street (a commercial hub in East Jerusalem). Today, it has become a famous falafel restaurant in the city, owned by the sons of the café’s owner. We used to sit at the small low table with short straw stools. We would drink coffee and talk about literature and politics,” Nabil said. “All the intellectuals of Jerusalem at that time who passed through Salah al-Din Street, which was the nerve center of social and literary journalistic life, would sit with us for some time, participating in our literary, intellectual, and political conversation.”

Nabil explained that Jerusalem was more beautiful, vibrant, and culturally active at that time. Their sessions at the café would occur in the afternoon hours when Salah al-Din Street was crowded with passersby and people who loved books and culture. A few meters from the café and at the entrance of a nearby building, there was a small kiosk, the Da’na kiosk, that sold newspapers and magazines and continues to do so to this day.

“We were a well-known trio in Jerusalem: Fawzi, me, and the historian and book lover, the late Fahmi al-Ansari; we used to spend time together, and if people wanted to know something about Fawzi, they would come to me at the café and later at my office on the same street,” Nabil added.

Fawzi used to isolate himself from cultural and literary events, because he believed that these events were merely hypocritical appearances. Although he was a member of the Writers’ Union, he kept himself away from public participation.

Writer and author Asaad al-Asaad revealed that Fawzi is the Jerusalemite version of the famous Iraqi poet Muzaffar al-Nawab, because like Fawzi, Muzaffar satirized and criticized many of the prominent Palestinian political, social, and intellectual figures of the time in his poems; however, they were not published into books but were recorded into audio pieces under the pseudonym “Abd al-Baqi Hun.”2

Ziad al-Hammouri, attorney and director of the Jerusalem Center for Social and Economic Rights, revealed that Fawzi gave himself the nickname “tamp of the poor” (influenced by poet Urwa ibn al-Ward), because he was like a punk, sympathetic to the poor and needy, and even considered himself one of them.3 Although he had a likable and humane personality that many people appreciated and loved, everyone feared his satire and sharp tongue.

“Sometimes we would force him to come with us to participate in a literary event or a national meeting, and he would tell us, ‘I am coming only for you.’ He was difficult to deal with, and he would attack everyone. I was even subjected to a poetic attack from him, but despite that, I went to him and reconciled with him,” Nabil said. Additionally, Nabil shared his thoughts on Fawzi’s literary, poetic, and journalistic traits: “Fawzi made his heart a lantern hovering above the walls of Jerusalem, sometimes ringing the bells and sometimes the call to prayer; his love for Jerusalem came as the last love after he longed for his first home.”

Nabil described Fawzi as a poet who was distinguished by his literary maturity, structure, language, subject, symbolism, and courageous stance. He was a sharp poet who never compromised tactics or reconciled ideology. “He paid a lot for his principled position, which prompted many to adhere to the constants and protect them and to protect the idea, the dream, and the homeland from being lost: he is the poet of conscience,” he explained.

Moreover, Palestinian short story writer Ziad Khaddash discussed Fawzi’s love for Jerusalem. “The last of the fedayeen poets has died, who loved Jerusalem and protected it with texts, songs, love, and courageous stances; the last time I passed by his house in Aqbat al-Mufti in Old Jerusalem was two months ago. Before his final illness, I used to visit him at home with friends who loved him. After the illness that confined him to bed and tired him out, visiting him became impossible, so I replaced the visit with a slow walk past the gate of his house, giving a silent greeting, standing for a while in front of the door.”4

“The passing of the punk of Jerusalem opens a wide door to the flow of the cultural memory of Jerusalem, of which Fawzi was one of its knights in the 1980s, a day when the Palestinian dream was bright and complete like the full moon,”5 Ziad added. In his first collection, “A Punk from Old Jerusalem,” Fawzi inaugurated a special linguistic poetic formulation that was new to Palestinian poetry, Ziad revealed. “The language is simple but full of linguistic flashes, boldness, and intelligent spontaneity; he was the first Palestinian poet to depict the concerns of the simple people, and to embrace, in the heart of his poems, the right of the poor and the marginalized.”

In the Old City, grief spread over the news of the death of Fawzi, who was known to everyone. A resident of the al-Wad neighborhood described him as a “spokesperson for the Old City: with his few poems, he expressed what was in our hearts and the suffering of the crushed Jerusalemites in the Old City in particular, and he conveyed our weak voice to the outside, and I mean outside the city walls.”6

Social activist and columnist Nafeth Asila, who writes about the social, economic, and political conditions of the Old City, explained to Jerusalem Story how many people throughout history have tried to be a voice for the people of Jerusalem, including Fawzi.

“Jerusalem’s residents face a state of ongoing oppression as a result of the occupation, discriminatory policies, and ongoing pressure to reduce their presence within the city; many individuals, institutions, and movements have tried, and continue to try, to be a voice for the Old City in the face of occupation, discrimination, and Judaization attempts,”7 Nafeth said. “This voice takes many forms, including political, media, legal, and literary aspects, such as the poet Fawzi al-Bakri, may God have mercy on him.”

Fawzi was born in Jerusalem in 1946 as “Mohammed Rizq”; however, his mother always liked to call him “Fawzi.” He grew up in a cultured family as his father, Yasin al-Bakri, was a well-known sheikh, imam, teacher, and preacher in al-Aqsa Mosque. After the 1967 War, he began to teach in the occupied territories, where he visited most of the villages and cities of Palestine, gaining immense popularity. Until today, many people still remember him.

Fawzi shared that his influence in composing poetry was due to his father, who encouraged him to memorize poetry, noting that his father did not write poetry until after the age of 60, and that his poetry was predominantly nationalistic and political.8

His father’s interest in Fawzi reached the point where he would give him a few piasters in exchange for a set of verses of poetry he memorized, which encouraged Fawzi and turned him into a great lover of the Arabic language. He developed a poetic repertoire, a linguistic storehouse, and a mastery of the literature and sciences of the language, including its grammar and morphology, which prompted Fawzi’s father to pay even more attention to his talented son.

Fawzi explained that poetry for him was a state and a moment of tension and turmoil. He usually wrote his poetry at night and exerted himself to draft the poem at a single level of emotion. Therefore, he seized moments of tension in which to write and finished writing immediately after the moment of tension had subsided.9

In the 1970s, Fawzi worked as a teacher and then as an editor for al-Fajr newspaper at its old headquarters in Jerusalem’s Wadi al-Joz neighborhood. He then cofounded the Arab Studies Center with Palestinian leader Faisal al-Husseini. There, he worked as a proofreader of manuscripts and books. Despite its closure, he remained an employee of the center until his death.

During one of Fawzi’s last visits at his home by a group of intellectuals and Jerusalemite figures who went to honor him, he said: “Jerusalem is the birthplace and playground of childhood and youth. It is the only geography that we experience before our eyes; unlike other geographies that we only know through maps, Jerusalem resides in our hearts and insides and is a part of our being.”10

Fawzi is considered one of the most distinguished Palestinian poetic voices of the 1980s, when poetry was an active and contributing factor in raising political awareness and shaping identity. Through his poetry, Fawzi proudly represented Jerusalem, its communities, and neighborhoods, and expressed his deep concern for the less fortunate and marginalized people of Jerusalem; he was a voice for many Jerusalemites.