Here to review as requested! 
This is difficult to review, mainly because the imagery here is so freaking powerful. I know this has already been said, but not only are the images vivid, but the base is very, very solid. Kind of like the roots of Chinar, because it lives so long, and because it's one of the highlights of Kashmir, found in nearly every village. So I love how you've described them as patient, and half the time I actually found myself visualizing the trees as people, standing stark straight through the seasons. I've often wondered if trees had voices, and it's so lovely to see that "voice" expressed through poetry. Now, I'll probably be moving from stanza to stanza and dissecting this. There's not much to critique, but I'll try my best!
I see the patience of Chinars in winter.
Their autumn flames doused, their trampled leaves
lying flat on sidewalks like crushed fists.
I like how the first two images almost ... collide with one another. The tone here was very peaceful, and it reminded me of the tranquility of winter, instead of how harsh it is. What's wonderful is that although technically, you're telling us that the Chinars are patient -- that means the winters are harsh -- you don't de-rail and start describing the frostbitten winds and stuff. You stick to the point. Which is good.
Flames and winter -- yummy imagery. I also like how you convey the idea that although the chinar signifies perseverance and longevity, it also bears loss; the latter being shown to us in the fact that it has lost its leaves. Kind of like how life affects people; they bear everything it throws at them, but time rips them apart. It's the way of the world, and nothing can change that. I realize I'm probably rambling here ...
I see the resilience of men, clearing paths with shovels,
making their way through frozen snow.
Correlating the two images? Comparing Chinars to men? Nice. While I admire the simplicity of this bit, I do think the image is weaker as compared to the first one. Maybe because the reader can't really see the comparison? Or maybe I'm looking too deep into this, and the scene actually depicts something different? That's one of the things about poetry; it means something different to each person! I do think you could strengthen the relation between Chinars and men, though. The length of the poem is one I'm perfectly content with, but if I might make a suggestion, you could go for stronger visuals here. Not the typical ones, like comparing roots and stuff to strength, but the way the roots are anchors, carving through the frozen soil, which is quite similar to the clearing of paths with shovel action you've got up there. It's be like playing with the whole, "I see" aspect of things as well, because you and the reader are both moving beyond the ordinary state of mind and entering a state that is both deeper, and sees that which remains unseen, but is ever-present. The same goes for the next two stanzas, because the imagery is sort of seen as weaker, considering how immensely powerful the first few lines were. Draw Chinars back into the reader's mind; signify their presence by reminding the reader of their strength and their fortitude!
Yet, the lyrics unforgotten,
whispered every now and then,
passed on
from old chapped lips
to young frostbitten ears.
I've always thought of poems as paths, and the reader as the observer who treads upon the foliage and the copse. Eventually, you leave a certain part of that path behind, and change direction. This part of your poem was, I felt, that "change of direction." And while it's subtle, I miss the chinars already! *sigh* I do like this, though. Reading this, you reminded me of how legends are passed from generation to generation. They live, despite the changes this world faces, natural or otherwise. And once again, my thoughts tweaked back to the tree with which you started off the poem, because it lives, too, despite the gruelling winter. It's traditional, a part of custom. It's as well-known as these stories that live on, being passed by word of mouth, and here I felt that you could use some elaboration, and create a link. It's like a circle, straying far from the center, and yet -- and yet all circles must be completed. So add a line or two? Bring us back to the chinar, which stands alone, but when summer comes it shall live again? There's so much you could do with this, really!
Okay, so coming back to technicalities, I didn't find any grammatical errors whatsoever. The beginning flowed better than the end, I'll admit, but the tone you maintained throughout the piece was simply lovely.
I hope this helped.
Keep writing! Long live ze chinar!
~Pompadour
(On a completely unrelated note, I prefer Chinar to Boonyi -- that's what it's called in Kashmir, right? -- since chinar is technically an Urdu word and more understandable.
Boo'in -- I'll remember now. 
Points: 27
Reviews: 396
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