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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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I understand the hearts of romantics, The rapture of their words written on a blank piece of paper Wrapped in pink ribbon to send to a lover who only existed in the throes of imaginary adventure. How the girl with the tattered spirit like a moth-infested closet Sprouted wings in a butterfly-like metamorphosis Only to find a hole in the dusted wings that sent her sailing to the floor in a frightening free-fall only followed by her teardrops. How she dusted her knees and asked the teddy bear to kiss it better who only answered her with the silent glint in his button eye. How she patched herself up and continued flight. How she broke her knees and heart in repetitiveness. in a love unrequited. I am the girl, I suffered, I mended. The silent crisis deafening the city, The boy with a glass pipe in his hand for an easy thrill lying in his own vomit across the street, The grandmother weeping in the coldest room for hope and a time without need and addiction with a window seat to the neighboring event. I am the boy that chases the dragon with a fearless anticipation, Ignorant to the addiction that chews at my brain and teeth, I scratch at the deposits in my arms and legs with a compulsive uneasiness to put on the sober face. I fall on my knees in church, Swear I believe in God and the Holy Ghost, Pray to Jesus when it's unbearable, Beg for the redemption of my fifteen year old soul because I know that my sins will reduce me to the burning pyre. Adaptation, addiction abstinence, and absolution are all part of me, I ask not of what the addict needs, for I become his heroin in his time of relapse, My cravings turn to pity for the men in withdrawal. Beaming bright and beautiful, My wings glow with the illumination that Mother graced me with long ago that I never believed was mine. I am the warrior standing at the podium with words as my only ammo, Facing my biggest fear. Again the stares of inferiority. Again the whispered thoughts against me. Again the prejudice. The knowledge overflows my being of terms I never analyzed completely, An analysis of my inferiority to the people gazing at me with glazed eyes and polite smiles, The understanding that wealth is the status quo as I stand in my old clothes and shoes, I have nothing better to do than feel uplifted. Again, the knowledge bubbles up in an outlet of laughter as it soars through my spirit like a lighthouse's beam over the ocean. They may be wealthy, but I am far richer.

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I understand the hearts of romantics, The rapture of their words written on a blank piece of paper Wrapped in pink ribbon to send to a lover who only existed in the throes of imaginary adventure. How the girl with the tattered spirit like a moth-infested closet Sprouted wings in a butterfly-like metamorphosis Only to find a hole in the dusted wings that sent her sailing to the floor in a frightening free-fall only followed by her teardrops. How she dusted her knees and asked the teddy bear to kiss it better who only answered her with the silent glint in his button eye. How she patched herself up and continued flight. How she broke her knees and heart in repetitiveness. in a love unrequited. I am the girl, I suffered, I mended. The silent crisis deafening the city, The boy with a glass pipe in his hand for an easy thrill lying in his own vomit across the street, The grandmother weeping in the coldest room for hope and a time without need and addiction with a window seat to the neighboring event. I am the boy that chases the dragon with a fearless anticipation, Ignorant to the addiction that chews at my brain and teeth, I scratch at the deposits in my arms and legs with a compulsive uneasiness to put on the sober face. I fall on my knees in church, Swear I believe in God and the Holy Ghost, Pray to Jesus when it's unbearable, Beg for the redemption of my fifteen year old soul because I know that my sins will reduce me to the burning pyre. Adaptation, addiction abstinence, and absolution are all part of me, I ask not of what the addict needs, for I become his heroin in his time of relapse, My cravings turn to pity for the men in withdrawal. Beaming bright and beautiful, My wings glow with the illumination that Mother graced me with long ago that I never believed was mine. I am the warrior standing at the podium with words as my only ammo, Facing my biggest fear. Again the stares of inferiority. Again the whispered thoughts against me. Again the prejudice. The knowledge overflows my being of terms I never analyzed completely, An analysis of my inferiority to the people gazing at me with glazed eyes and polite smiles, The understanding that wealth is the status quo as I stand in my old clothes and shoes, I have nothing better to do than feel uplifted. Again, the knowledge bubbles up in an outlet of laughter as it soars through my spirit like a lighthouse's beam over the ocean. They may be wealthy, but I am far richer.