Piyush Dey Poems
- The Shadow In My Garden Among the daisies of my morning ...
- Let Me, For Once, Move Alone The day has bloomed as it ...
- If I'D Only Known, That this is the last time we've met, I ...
- If I Believe Two pieces of bread and a glass of water, i ...
- Mistakes Sometimes, It is nothing else, But mistakes that...
- Dear Life! I'M Not Mad At You Dear Life! I'm not mad at you, ...
- Little Hesitance, Little Sorro... One last time she had asked ...
I love reading, writing and feeling poetry. And as i am born in India-The country of hearts, evanescent loves and friendship, virtues and beliefs, I believe in simplicity and love. I am a great lover of sports and novels.I believe that there is poetry in everything, indeed every little thing! i am an Indian. India is a very beautiful country given it's rich culture and literature. A land of ... more »
Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
Quotationsmore quotations »
''Too pretty are you, my little hurdles, that it seems sometimes as though I am only walking with my little steps upon the fire of your beauty.''Hurdles
''You can't dream with closed eyes,Dreams
You can't dream with open eyes either,
Until your heart says, 'I love to dream'.''
''We can't deny what we see, niether can we move away from it.Reality
But we can change what we see and so shall we move forth.''
The trouble with Indians was not that they lacked educational oppurtunities or industrial infrastructure-the trouble was in their failure to discriminate between disciplines and to rationalise their c...The trouble with Indians
''We don't remember people for their immense support and unselfish love but the only time when they don't help us.''Truth of life
The Shadow In My Garden
the daisies of my morning garden,
and the golden leaves of grass that
dance untouched when the wind fills
into their arms, just down the
the butterflies over the rosy nectar,
and the dew over the tips of the
old leaves, and somewhere in the
greenness of the little garden,
falls your absence,
which grows more denser with each
blooming petal of petunia over the
smallest plant that stands as bold
and bright beside that old bench
where for hours, some crows used
to sit and babble,