not an evergreen,
staying alive has never had simplicity.
i’m angry that i made myself like this,
trimmed my branches,
thought things were not meant to stick to me.
i am angry that i thought
my savior is some wanderlust women
unfit for the journey,
jealous of the destination.

not an evergreen,
i cannot live without water.
the cold pursues me,
prancing in the unbearable wind.
there’s salvation on the edge of the horizon,
some soft meadow to lay my head upon.
along the line of trees, finding is impossible.
somehow not small enough
to be cut down and taken home and,
without a doubt,
i am not tall enough to see.

aroused from my slumber
through nightmares of your tongue
the potential it holds
sprout in my fruitful mind
the scariest ones
worsen in truth with time
espoused to another healing trajectory
peace and serenity
understanding my powers of empathy
treat you with delicacy
persist like evergreen
trout swimming in the confines of my oceanic surmise

We, birds in pain,
Put our trust in branches
Too weak to hold the weight of these dreams
This saffron grief is too fragrant
For our evergreen pine noses.
The everyday calamity
The everyman dream
Burns through the soil in our lungs,  
Memories of summer are now lost in September rain.
I am here dreaming of mending hearts
That have braved more than they can bear
But these drooping eyelids
Are stuck in endless night cycles
Of listening to the sounds of misery

Laced with ribbons of moonlight
Bangladesh a touched dream at first light.
Land of my father, my mother
sweeter than nectar.
Purer than the driven snow
brighter than raw gold.
Gazing stars’ bumped up bottom
down the untouched moon.

Men and the six seasons
living in one loving fold
our one fertile sweet home!
O Allah rank our martyrs our heroes
up high in paradise in bloom
brought Bangladesh freedom abloom!

Punters cumulus clouds fly
eyes on the sky blue  
on a spur hanging low tune into wild coo.
Picture independent Bangladesh
step in on the morning rug
rolls out outside the sun
walk through, the moon is inside!
Bask in, take your time
when the twilight adds a shadow
the beauty spot on your broad daylight
escape to more serendipitous discovery.
Eye on the stars or tuberoses on the ground
our free land is inspiring, beautiful even in the dark.

Laughs free from a tulip glass  
across the land, air and the water
upon the reed flute stirred river
flowing downstream to the hilt
from a deep-delved foundation out of reach
her raised high flag flies
over the pivotal banyan trees.

Every flap of our ‘the sun in the green’ shaped flag,
the light of heaven on the evergreen earth!
Ah, sways in the chalice of every flower
on the land cheers beyond the warm South
whispers to our hearts and makes us feel proud.

When surgeons open my body
They’ll find
         E v e r g r e e n
Snow capped mountains with endless expanses of ice

They will find a certain
              s t i  l l n e s s
No whispering between the trees
No flowers singing in the sun

I’ll be dreaming of the heat
I’ve been missing in my fingertips for so long
I have frost bite
on e v e r y s i n g l e o n e

When surgeons open my body
looking for my heart
they’ll find S t a t i c
A silence that e c h o s  
A kind of silence you only know after tragedy

I have
An  e   m   p   t     y  space
where my lungs once were
Holding  N o t h i n g
but a vigil witnessed only by one small girl with t i n y t i n y hope
All fading away
in the abandoned town
I have resting
between each breath


- When the surgeons open my body
- They will find many many secrets inside

There is solace in our garden
With a little bit of cheer
An everlasting paradise
Or maybe you didn't hear

Winter comes around
But we are safe here
With the long lasting tree
The Evergreen one

The warmth of the furnace
And the smell of a meal
Are enough to drive away
Any pests that come too near

Spring eventually arrives
As winter readily leaves
The garden once again
With solace in the air

Evergreen stands
still at the hearth.
Roaring red fire,
life, love and mirth.

Laughter and joy.
Cider's sweet mash.
Dull fire's embers;
glowing orange ash.

We retreat to our beds,
nestled and warm,
and dream of the morning
when the Christ child was born.

Lights festooned,
on the bushes outside;
filter in through the window,
glimmer and shine.

We long for the hour
when we flock to the tree.
Peppermint, tinsel,
ribbons, and glee.