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 Its a strange habit To the muse of my delusions, I set traps for myself Walk straight without any intention of looking back I envision a dream and emulate the living presence which entices me With words, with slurs, I appreciate and deliver my division again and again And you’re convinced that there is a part of me missing from the frame But this painter has yet another idea of a living safe I will tell you what it means to become engulfed in risk and loose face It's a simple thing when it's broken down We’re all thoughts tripping the gates here as flesh on the ground So what I do is Leave a note on speed dial, repeat wild Center my focus and release hold control of my emotions I’m in need of a spoken bunch To feed me off a lunch, with the simple hunch That I’m a brushstroke in someone else’s mirror reflection, deception It’s all there Just like you, to understand myself I must walk through the shadow of death And realize that there’s nothing left, That can’t get me... I’m a slave to an ocean rollercoaster role model Who shows that with every whiff of the salty air the most prevalent presence is the one that’s not theirs My surrounding perspectives, astoundingly pensive, Nonetheless regrettably neglictant of my tidal introspective Which is written in the fabric of the walls within which I reside I, a walking-talk feel most alive In the doubt which claims to be my mind A few pencil marks, a couple dropping clocks and a bookshelf that persists in its resistance- Picking the phone off the wall, Calling it off, calling the cops, because it just can't understand what it watches And as dust trails after the pages which are caught in free-fall in the air of this room, Sum-one always seas the mUSic flood through
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