Home » Poems » Poetry Art » Poetry Art / Greeting Card Maker

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.

Text
Layout
Background

Enter Title (Not Required)

Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required
Another glass November 18, 2012 at 12:57am Sitting alone, thinking within. There is nothing left to say, so let me begin. Truthfully started before my soul departed. Upon the unknown, just where I restarted. I become the leaves that fall from the trees. Crisp without water, hindering in the breeze. The meaning of life is answered in the wind. It moves on and pushes through each of our sins. Everything is healed as seasons pass. May I ask you if you'd like another glass? Vexed by the possibility of life outside Earth. We begin to search right here under the dirt. Granted we find only the very things that brought us here. We realize seasons change, and that was without fear. So without fear can there be pure love? We can find the answer by gazing at a dove. Bedazzled by the sight of a beautiful bird. We sing songs we remember, and some we only heard. Together we fall, alone we rise. Everything is answered just as seasons die. Forging a new pattern in a regular bliss. I only want to ask you for one single kiss. But maybe that wish will not be granted. For my soul has not quite been perfectly chanted. Gazing at the stars, searching for obscurities. But sadly all we find are mangled insecurities. Stare at eachother until our souls become bled. With our liquids mixed we may not starve but be fed. A cynical outlook on such a fictional tale. I'd quietly fetch myself another ale. Trying to bring such a fantasy to a close. When I know very well that we are all juxtapose.

Enter Author Name (Not Required)

Move Text:

Heading Text

Color:

Main/Poem Text

Color:

Background Position Alignment:
LeftCenterRight | TopCenterBottom

Tall Bkgds
Wide Bkgds

Upload Image:

Fit to HeightFit to Width

10mb max file size

Use Internet Image:

Fit to HeightFit to Width

Like: https://www.poetrysoup.com/images/ce_Finnaly_home_soare.jpg

Layout: TallShort

www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry

Another Glass

Another glass November 18, 2012 at 12:57am Sitting alone, thinking within. There is nothing left to say, so let me begin. Truthfully started before my soul departed. Upon the unknown, just where I restarted. I become the leaves that fall from the trees. Crisp without water, hindering in the breeze. The meaning of life is answered in the wind. It moves on and pushes through each of our sins. Everything is healed as seasons pass. May I ask you if you'd like another glass? Vexed by the possibility of life outside Earth. We begin to search right here under the dirt. Granted we find only the very things that brought us here. We realize seasons change, and that was without fear. So without fear can there be pure love? We can find the answer by gazing at a dove. Bedazzled by the sight of a beautiful bird. We sing songs we remember, and some we only heard. Together we fall, alone we rise. Everything is answered just as seasons die. Forging a new pattern in a regular bliss. I only want to ask you for one single kiss. But maybe that wish will not be granted. For my soul has not quite been perfectly chanted. Gazing at the stars, searching for obscurities. But sadly all we find are mangled insecurities. Stare at eachother until our souls become bled. With our liquids mixed we may not starve but be fed. A cynical outlook on such a fictional tale. I'd quietly fetch myself another ale. Trying to bring such a fantasy to a close. When I know very well that we are all juxtapose.