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 They drift gently down(downed)? Into the heart they root, confetti on desperate streets glowing like gilded red roses. Smell them as they chant your songs.. so very often(semi-pure hearted) they keep things(you) aloft, far above the stingers the biters of early frost. All the while death's photographic memory tapdancing,tossing needles. You feel you can ride razors, go unscarred. A pinwheel inside the bubble of sodapop dreams, live forever's eternity.. the loins of the mind a crisp-confident ball of catnip and tinsel. Every by-way of everyday doused in gentle flames every gaze a swaying mosaic of prarie flowers... but the sun is but a blemish to storm... the downy gaze is but a concrete stare, the eyes of hope glancing off yesterday when trails were filled with bike bells and pulse. Petals of just being, brushed beneath tender chins we both liked butter and blurry stars... and we kissed... clumsily -chiptoothed - pure and sediments of love and living will devolve, wings tend to become claws flight into crawl... an uncomfortable lavender. Paths will rut, become trough become.. cold canyon flash flooding crashing. Broken flowers cascading under the chin butter turns rancid crows barking, "I told you so-should have listened to father, when he begged you to slow down sip slowely and breathe. The silk of naive leads to brushfires in the mind everything given to scorch... the hills the troughs we (the survivors) hang from trees groping the dark to descend to the bones of things once loved of things once cherished of things now hated of things avoided things that lay dead.. a plague of darknesses bred in the silences of hopeless. The lullaby raped into hoarsness, like bike bells in winter.
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