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Greeting Card Maker | Poem Art Generator

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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"Oak" The guardians stood around and shook their heads great thoughts quivering from the ground, roots up, as if to walk confidently with great armies yet hesitation was witnessed in their waving gestures perplexed and touching green crowns, there they stood solid, unmoving hard headed in their stance, yet pliable, bending like willows; the whistling breeze conversed its bewilderment at the verbosity of the high and mighty, stood in groups, as if in some great hall of royal politics waiting for the summoning of a king, now they were lobbying and seen by the watchers, spies shrouded in indigo remaining unseen, strange hidden stagnant and mulling dark night creatures waiting for what next to arrive? in the centre the moon bathed its luminosity over a great and mighty scene, a pageantry encroaching the ever spreading strange gathering magnetically attracted there, to a visage central and overpowering, an ancient One, still standing, much older than the others surpassing even the age of time an outstanding elder if you will, rough barked, yet speaking in hushed tones, insisting patience and understanding, the gracious toleration of others, without interference, existing generous by nature and a kinder acceptance for the oddness of others, which curiously did not arrive easily, nor naturally, from the others; "this empathic way of being for all ghosts who tread their path in this strange place of possessive poésie," advised this central creature speaking, "I give you this, granted, that for the haunted, haunting is a most strange way of living, yet the haunted, they too, must play, as the others play, their transparent part, shining gossamer light and messages to light fires for one the other, to become all in good time so much more, each the others' spark and most necessary," the One speaking relayed with authority, "most significant of all, the need for taking communication in safe measure with the dark night and its hidden creatures, also seeking relevance in it all" these ghosts, the firmer, centrally placed proffered were like will-o-the wisps, lanterns carrying the hope of the deferred living, jangling their keys for seeing, but majorily unseen they went about their way confused, silent and unheard they walk like zombies methodically aimless from world to world room to room thought to thought and back again, as if in never ending waiting rooms winding like worms through revolving in and out doors of slippery subterranean caverns, seeking answers and closure, they traverse opening and closing doors to strange mysteries not knowing, who or what they are, little do they know, they are the strangest mystery of all, by far connections to the all seeing linked, arm-in-arm yet, in the Bardo here they don’t live they merely exist transparent, each mirror to the other, walking through the other, shadows shadow seeking in very strange manner, ways in and out to what’s firmly planted at central core; the meaning of it all. now planted centre stage stopped speaking. all were listening to the great Tree of Life for more, with its arms outstretched up to the sky, as if to gather in a legion, like a flock of birds, the hidden like spies watched on and witnessed the now arrived the connected connecting with the all descending - around its great and gracious extended limbs it raised its hanging head golden acorns adorned its thorny crown the all connected were now descended, all were swiftly planted gathering around to learn the answers to such meaning; wings in legions boisterously beating tattoo sounds great military squadrons, all the birds of the tree-rimmed sky soliciting their opinions a cacophony in agreement with this grand master some magick lesson for the feeding now being imparted to black winged nephilim and ultra violet beings scurrilous flying foxes noble gryphons, the incorrigible fey, chasing unicorns and hippogryphs begging to save the day fierce firebirds alighting with their nephele riding wild their competitive Pegasus their hearts racing rapidly the pugnacious Wyvern the courage of dragons scorpion tales to sting and tell, all those gathered bearing coat of arms to what spoke at the centre, a tree of heraldry gifting the light of life lux vitae, the word written in the circling rings of time "talismans turn keys to gateways, don’t you know this yet?" it said, "such entry, are the tokens to closed books for conquering mistakes and fears from riddled territories", now the guardians who stood firm moved like life electric through their fingertips branching across their indigo sky they reached to touch the stars that spoke to them glistening points of light, as if beaming somewhere other behind a fragile curtain glimpses to another world another time at the great Oak’s feet, talismans 3 golden acorns, cast unique in brackish water like old tears in a mossy field amidst a sea of sleeping others in their warm fir blankets their beech sheets of prickly pine needles astral and subliminal holding onto mistletoe as if to kiss a dream awake like sleeping beauties looking for the bite of a delicious life affirming apple, like adam and eve gone all lilith in bed with a snake, they toss and turn in battle 3 golden acorns like keys lost to be found their messages hidden and haunting now taken up with much stranger creatures hidden at the feet of a gateway begging not to be found; The Oak bows to Yew, “slips of Yew silvered in the Moon’s eclipse, necessary for the resurrect through Yew, the final gate, what resides in Oak will be found, as if written in stone through touch feeling and hearing intuition like sound you will finally see, better than early, here late, is never too late, you will see” (LadyLabyrinth / 2023)

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Oak

"Oak" The guardians stood around and shook their heads great thoughts quivering from the ground, roots up, as if to walk confidently with great armies yet hesitation was witnessed in their waving gestures perplexed and touching green crowns, there they stood solid, unmoving hard headed in their stance, yet pliable, bending like willows; the whistling breeze conversed its bewilderment at the verbosity of the high and mighty, stood in groups, as if in some great hall of royal politics waiting for the summoning of a king, now they were lobbying and seen by the watchers, spies shrouded in indigo remaining unseen, strange hidden stagnant and mulling dark night creatures waiting for what next to arrive? in the centre the moon bathed its luminosity over a great and mighty scene, a pageantry encroaching the ever spreading strange gathering magnetically attracted there, to a visage central and overpowering, an ancient One, still standing, much older than the others surpassing even the age of time an outstanding elder if you will, rough barked, yet speaking in hushed tones, insisting patience and understanding, the gracious toleration of others, without interference, existing generous by nature and a kinder acceptance for the oddness of others, which curiously did not arrive easily, nor naturally, from the others; "this empathic way of being for all ghosts who tread their path in this strange place of possessive poésie," advised this central creature speaking, "I give you this, granted, that for the haunted, haunting is a most strange way of living, yet the haunted, they too, must play, as the others play, their transparent part, shining gossamer light and messages to light fires for one the other, to become all in good time so much more, each the others' spark and most necessary," the One speaking relayed with authority, "most significant of all, the need for taking communication in safe measure with the dark night and its hidden creatures, also seeking relevance in it all" these ghosts, the firmer, centrally placed proffered were like will-o-the wisps, lanterns carrying the hope of the deferred living, jangling their keys for seeing, but majorily unseen they went about their way confused, silent and unheard they walk like zombies methodically aimless from world to world room to room thought to thought and back again, as if in never ending waiting rooms winding like worms through revolving in and out doors of slippery subterranean caverns, seeking answers and closure, they traverse opening and closing doors to strange mysteries not knowing, who or what they are, little do they know, they are the strangest mystery of all, by far connections to the all seeing linked, arm-in-arm yet, in the Bardo here they don’t live they merely exist transparent, each mirror to the other, walking through the other, shadows shadow seeking in very strange manner, ways in and out to what’s firmly planted at central core; the meaning of it all. now planted centre stage stopped speaking. all were listening to the great Tree of Life for more, with its arms outstretched up to the sky, as if to gather in a legion, like a flock of birds, the hidden like spies watched on and witnessed the now arrived the connected connecting with the all descending - around its great and gracious extended limbs it raised its hanging head golden acorns adorned its thorny crown the all connected were now descended, all were swiftly planted gathering around to learn the answers to such meaning; wings in legions boisterously beating tattoo sounds great military squadrons, all the birds of the tree-rimmed sky soliciting their opinions a cacophony in agreement with this grand master some magick lesson for the feeding now being imparted to black winged nephilim and ultra violet beings scurrilous flying foxes noble gryphons, the incorrigible fey, chasing unicorns and hippogryphs begging to save the day fierce firebirds alighting with their nephele riding wild their competitive Pegasus their hearts racing rapidly the pugnacious Wyvern the courage of dragons scorpion tales to sting and tell, all those gathered bearing coat of arms to what spoke at the centre, a tree of heraldry gifting the light of life lux vitae, the word written in the circling rings of time "talismans turn keys to gateways, don’t you know this yet?" it said, "such entry, are the tokens to closed books for conquering mistakes and fears from riddled territories", now the guardians who stood firm moved like life electric through their fingertips branching across their indigo sky they reached to touch the stars that spoke to them glistening points of light, as if beaming somewhere other behind a fragile curtain glimpses to another world another time at the great Oak’s feet, talismans 3 golden acorns, cast unique in brackish water like old tears in a mossy field amidst a sea of sleeping others in their warm fir blankets their beech sheets of prickly pine needles astral and subliminal holding onto mistletoe as if to kiss a dream awake like sleeping beauties looking for the bite of a delicious life affirming apple, like adam and eve gone all lilith in bed with a snake, they toss and turn in battle 3 golden acorns like keys lost to be found their messages hidden and haunting now taken up with much stranger creatures hidden at the feet of a gateway begging not to be found; The Oak bows to Yew, “slips of Yew silvered in the Moon’s eclipse, necessary for the resurrect through Yew, the final gate, what resides in Oak will be found, as if written in stone through touch feeling and hearing intuition like sound you will finally see, better than early, here late, is never too late, you will see” (LadyLabyrinth / 2023)