Why Aren't We Poets?

Me and my friend Chris Grove wrote this little ditty while sitting together at a table typing. We actually have photographic evidence of this encounter. It is a beautiful picture. This piece says a lot about the world. "Why isn't there any inspiration in the world!!" A man screamed while glaring at his computer. Through the window behind him the sun's rays blew over the clouds and created a portrait of heaven in the clouds. "Because you're not looking you idiot!" Said the clouds.

 

"Why aren't we poets?" Chris said exuberantly as they stood atop the glacier. The sunlight stared at the glassy exterior of the ice and reflected sunlight into the retinas of their eyes. They felt nothing. "I'm cold," said Jake. Chris looked on knowingly. As the two footsteps created patterns within the plush front of the snowy peak, the sleek canvas created a portrait of their lack of life; cold and emotionless. "What is that keeps the moon upright?" Chris expected no answer. As the question fluttered out of his lips though, the moons body began rumbling and breaking. Thick, glowing goop spilled out of the moons interior out to the white opaqueness of the snow creating a painting that would make Picasso cry. "Why aren't we poets?" Chris said exuberantly.