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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Reoccurring Dream
I have a reoccurring dream. In this dream I am in a wooden shack, dusted and old. I breathe suddenly and deeply regaining consciousness As though I was in deep thought, yet nothing fills my mind. I sit up from a creaky old stool to realize my surroundings. I have been to this place before; my footsteps mark the dirty floor, imprinted in the dust. My attention is drawn to a dirty window as the sound of thunder claps around me. The sky is vibrant and tormented; Swirls of white wrestle the grey clouds as lightening runs across the sky in a beautiful Array colors. Then the smell of fresh rain fills my senses. I leave the shack to enter a barren plain, infinite on all horizons With the exception of a massive black tree; naked and alone. I gaze at the sky once more and a cool breeze flows through, filling me completely. The tree now too begins to breathe deeply the cool winds, large and intensely. As I walk towards the tree it begins rain. The rain drops touch me but I am not wet. The dry dirt drinks the rain as quickly as it falls muddying the soil I am walking on, Though my feet are not muddy. My feet imprint the dirt but the mud does not stay, Only the wetness of the soil, leaving my feet damp. I run towards the tree that now bears a single fruit. I reach for it but sobbingly the tree begs me not to eat its only child. Disheartened I sit on the ground digging my hands into the dry soil. Underneath it is dark fertile earth, but like the mud it does not dirty my hands; It gently falls to the ground. In the holes I have dug water begins to pool from the rain, Clear and pure. I gaze into the pools but see no reflection, only the sky above. I put my face in these pools and breathe; no water fills my lungs, Though water fills my ears. I remove my head from the water and hear no sound; My eyes are closed and all is silent. Slowly the water drains and sound returns, Thoughts rush my mind and words encourage my tongue; I am awake.
Copyright © 2024 Kristopher Higgs. All Rights Reserved

Book: Shattered Sighs