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 Who am I to know that the existence of heaven lives in the pause between breaths or that the story of creation is a searing scar in the side of Jesus? I have collected my pleasures, like monsoons collect the dead, have collected my memories, the raw force of vitality, the swift silk of a spider’s web, the emptiness of being, all of this: a country of vibrant emotions. I have touched the sea with my hands, bringing them together, feeling the abrupt salt between my fingers, torrid like the stinging whip of a lover: Her tongue burns me alive with its naked wine; her eyes dig into the depths of mine. Who am I to know that the Kingdom of God lives in the stones, the fire, the water, the mud, or that twilight is a sudden sadness like gray blood clots caused by black thorns? Still, my excitement is like a tower of energy or a vigorous burst of sperm or the moonlight’s mysteries fitting its key into my soul where a secret stillness wallows in its swaggering bliss. I have tasted the meat of the universe, its heart, its lungs, its liver, tasting it with my gentleness, a gentleness like soft lips, or a feather, or a lover’s whisper: Her mouth burns me alive with its raw juice; her heart feeds from mine. Who am I to know that the Supreme Spirit lives in the flies, the lice, the grub, or that death’s bitter sorrow lives in the dust, the bones, the ash, or in the agony of a broken heart? —once, Jesus summoned me. He undid his wounds with the jagged blades of my tears. I held him, embracing him, saying: My brother, my brother, my peaceful brother... who am I... to know... who I am? —————————————————————————— From my first book: 'In Forbidden Language' http://www.amazon.com/In-Forbidden-Language-Dah/dp/0982874707 ©dah / Stillpoint Books 2010 all rights reserved With an introduction by Eve Hogard
Enter Author Name (Not Required)