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.
Enter Title (Not Required)
Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The artiste's window gradually falling down Holds the view of the prince's throne and crown The ordered maidens, freely, the palace roams Like leaves in autumn, dry, litter the roads “Fall on your wounded knees and withered faith”, The new king speaks into the poor man’s face. “I precede you on earth, would still up there” And thus! The pauper’s hope replaced with fear. The painter’s canvass slowly would make sense, But only after seeming meaningless. Instructed strokes of exotic brushes - - All well worked by the artist’s lines in crossing. In turns and shifts, swift swings and bad skitters, Thorns and arrows pour down like blizzard in winter. They pour upon him like a war ground victim Even when all evil should be out of season. 1/27/2013 i just had to enter Still life’s vile tenderness unfolds a new trick, Of all things on earth, he was the “lucky” pick, It never fails to be true to him each time, - Without him having to pay a wee dime. Would pass the night wherever it found him, Bypass, Roadside, however, he’d rest still. He’d greet the dawn with his ominous tear, And string some words into one in pray-er. What life would hold again in a new day? His dreams, through pain, can board a flight away. So little he is, inside his meek heart, Still deprived of all but his meager lads. The pauper’s tears catch each dust the wheels have cast The wheels of pride, and guile that would always pass His wailing voice thrust swords into caring hearts Calls for heaven (the place), since life on earth’s aghast.
Enter Author Name (Not Required)