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 I think he’s possessed by the moon- all rock and darkness. I can’t be certain, his eyes rarely show it, but in the right light- that moment when the night has caught the fading sun, when it's engulfed at sunset- I’m sure I can see him fully. For that second, I see him, and I see nothing. He’s all frosted to bone, there’s nothing behind those grey eyes. As desolate as the moon’s surface, as void as its insides, he is barely filled, there is nothing in there- a drained silhouette. His face might shimmer like polished crystal but he is empty, that iced expression just reflects; there’s madness in those silver-white eyes; they have no substance, only shine. And it’s in that moment that I realise that in his eyes, I am nothing. I have no purpose to him, a flower growing in the warmest summer that's stitched shut, unable to bloom. The second passes and I think I'm able to bury that feeling, but it forms again, and rises every-so-often, leeching my mind dry, his translucence haunting me with every look. I think I’m certain he’s owned by the moon; it’s clear, just like the vacuum behind his eyes that continues to grow. I’m not afraid of these emerging realisations, it’s only the edges, the dark parts that crawl beneath the surface, refusing to be seen, that trouble me. It’s the unborn thoughts, the premature reflections, the developing machinations that terrify me. I’m sure he’s empty, but sometimes I think there’s something in there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting in its lair. What does he think, when he doesn’t think at all? What breeds in the darkness, in that hollow cave, that light refuses to exist in? It’s these questions that disturb me at night, and I wonder whether I can live with the shadow-man.
Enter Author Name (Not Required)