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 A scatter of iridescent wings beneath the shattered glass. A collection of still butterflies, dead memories of my past. An attempt to break the patterns of a life not lived before. The remnants of a squandered fortune I'm left no less, no more. I try to see beyond my walls of Crystal city's broken dreams. I listen in the silence, for my own protracted screams. I'm growing yet, I'll grow still more, to be a better man, like a diamond forming in the ground, to glitter on your hand. A scatter of iridescent wings, beneath the shattered glass, a collection of still butterflies, dead memories of my past. The past is ever fading. The days ahead seem bright. I tried to overcome the drug, God knows I lost the fight. The only way I'll win the war, is to give my soul, my life to God. He is the Fisher of all men, I'm bending down the rod. He is my strength, my source of light, when I'm lost out in the dark. I know that he will save my life, and allow new light to spark. A scatter of iridescent wings beneath the shattered glass a collection of still butterflies, dead memories of my past. The butterflies will stir again. They'll fly the winds they did before. The shattered glass will crystalize and bend the light once more. A rainbow of refraction. The sun beams through the glass. The collection of still butterflies, is free again at last.
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