Free online greeting card maker or poetry art generator. Create free custom printable greeting cards or art from photos and text online. Use PoetrySoup's free online software to make greeting cards from poems, quotes, or your own words. Generate memes, cards, or poetry art for any occasion; weddings, anniversaries, holidays, etc (See examples here). Make a card to show your loved one how special they are to you. Once you make a card, you can email it, download it, or share it with others on your favorite social network site like Facebook. Also, you can create shareable and downloadable cards from poetry on PoetrySoup. Use our poetry search engine to find the perfect poem, and then click the camera icon to create the card or art.
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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I must be getting old, beginning to hate the cold, perhaps instinctively,subconsciously knowing cold's connection to death, I can hardly catch my breath, smoking like a fiend since I was fifteen, knuckle enlarged and red, the pounding in my head, just wanting to take to my bed but worried I might wake up dead, sometimes I wake up confused, bemused not knowing where I am not recognizing the room and feeling a sudden sense of doom remembering the womb and fearing the tomb... one time I woke up and didn't even know who I was: complete amnesia for a few moments some kind of mental seizure my mind was blank as I wildly eyed the room and tried and tried to remember who-what-where, a brief but horrific loss of my humanity, a glimpse of pure insanity heart gripping panic I won't soon forget and yet...and yet in my mind I am still young while I try to reconcile the contrast between that youth in my mind with the passing of time as I slowly slip my tongue over the smooth gums where once there were teeth and the few I have left give me nothing but grief rotten and black breaking in half I spit out pieces that look like they came from King Tut, I keep my mouth shut afraid to speak or smile all the while knowing the taste of death, it's on my breath, I grasp the depression that comes with age and the impotence of elderly rage and once again I see that child I once was, blonde and tanned and running wild, building castles on the beach, skin hot and brown and hair sun-bleached, my father carries me into the water, gray haired man and tow-head daughter, the surf is wild, churning 'round his legs but his stride is true and brave he lifts me me high above the waves I hug his neck, he's in his prime and now I wish I could turn back time and stay there now and evermore that endless summer at the shore when I was five, or maybe four.
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