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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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Sitting at glen’s edge, pining the loss of summer and idyllic rendezvous - the noticeable disappearance of luscious granny smiths we cut in halves and passionately rubbed between a quartet of burning thighs to chill the desire - after the writhing ceased. Perhaps we spoke in similes, debating the darker part of dawn - the soft, highlighted slices of your auburn hair reflecting the sun's secret midday voyeurism - wispy strands of woven silk complimenting the texture and hue of imported burgundy wines erotically sipped, tasted and unintentionally spilled? Or maybe, we didn’t speak at all - perhaps our mouths were silently engaged in activities devoid of eating and speaking - and the perspiration exchanged was more essential than simplistic bands of knuckled gold; wet and wanting an invitation to the honey-scented catacombs of a private teardrop. The summer when two ambitious hearts beat loudly and became whole; we coupled and silently brushed our eyelashes against a lost era. A time when innocence was a forgotten commodity - and sincere happenstance could not define the validity of unconditional love; whereas our sodden lips remembered and conditionally did. Dedicated to and written for my sweetheart -Margaret.

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Spring Valley

Sitting at glen’s edge, pining the loss of summer and idyllic rendezvous - the noticeable disappearance of luscious granny smiths we cut in halves and passionately rubbed between a quartet of burning thighs to chill the desire - after the writhing ceased. Perhaps we spoke in similes, debating the darker part of dawn - the soft, highlighted slices of your auburn hair reflecting the sun's secret midday voyeurism - wispy strands of woven silk complimenting the texture and hue of imported burgundy wines erotically sipped, tasted and unintentionally spilled? Or maybe, we didn’t speak at all - perhaps our mouths were silently engaged in activities devoid of eating and speaking - and the perspiration exchanged was more essential than simplistic bands of knuckled gold; wet and wanting an invitation to the honey-scented catacombs of a private teardrop. The summer when two ambitious hearts beat loudly and became whole; we coupled and silently brushed our eyelashes against a lost era. A time when innocence was a forgotten commodity - and sincere happenstance could not define the validity of unconditional love; whereas our sodden lips remembered and conditionally did. Dedicated to and written for my sweetheart -Margaret.