Zeugmas are “are figures of speech in which one single phrase or word joins different parts of a sentence.”

Leaves, rain and temperature  fall,

and bears asleep in wintersleep,

and we to work and ill of flu,

and I over backwards with this zeugma.

My eyes opened and so did the door

Time grew older and so did I

The path shrunk and so did my hope

So people and opportunities both passed me by.

I made up my face and my mind

He’ll just break my heart and the bank.

But how can I take leave or pity

When he stole a kiss and my heart.

He opened his heart and his wallet

While she dug for compliments and for gold

He held the door and his breath

The wine was sweet and so was she

Today I’m editing articles and my life. I rework layout and my time.

I disconnect my computer and mind, and sign away papers and time.

Reading news and my to-do list. Hoping to publish and sleep.

Wednesdays are hell.

But why does this rain fall but why do those tears fall but why does nothing stay the same.

These questions, why do they plague the souls of our people.

But why are things not as simple as they seem.

You held your thoughts and the door as I walked by.

The thief, stealing a stitch in time and cotton managed to stitch himself up and his shirt before being nicked by police and his scissors. 
It’s not poetry alas. But it’s my first.

Become a neurosurgeon: open your mind and her brain.

Become an interstellar astronaut: explore space and loneliness.

Become a thinker: turn on your mind and the light bulb.
Become a player of word games: scratch your head and the pencil on the paper.

He met me with a smile and flowers.

Promised me dinner and a man.

He then devoured my spinach dip and emotions.

So I took my leave and leftovers.

Regained my independence and palate.

Thanks to scholarly pursuits, I’m trapped inside the library and my mind. I want to open my heart and the door to better things. With all this reading and writing, I may bite the bullet and the dust.

She is a swirl of blue silk and sunshine strands of hair, falling to the grass.

I see the crinkles at the edges of her eyes, the apples of her cheeks painted rosy red: her sheer joy. I drop to her side.

Together, in the summer sun, we are forever; eye to eye, trust; hand in hand, faith.

This morning I rose from my bed and thoughts, feeling the hunger for food and success.

Disconnected my cable and negative stress, some say I’m gifted from wisdom and the words I manifest.

Woxy enters system and room

by breaking the silence and the crystal.

He did not asked to do so and gets the answer

when Serena’s view gets out of view for his clumsiness,

they were lost and loose in the dark.

At the Museum of Modern Art, the curator showed me Salvador Dali’s self-portrait, his selfie, his soul, and I saw through the frame, time, and all Dali’s passions, posturings, and pretensions to understand a man and an age.

She was on the bed and the phone.

Wanting to sell her bed-room, she called whether he was interested in the one night-stand.

He asked whether she’d want him to come.

She responded with “you can have it all”.