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 Shirley, I am ?, more than the sum of this black, cold stone – believed. Shirley, there is more to me than I have stated – perceived. Surely I am more than that ? Shirley, I can be retrieved from these thoughts, these memories of, and finally be relieved of the guilt’s, the regrets that for years, plagued my day with all that was laid before me, what I let slip, silently away. Thoughts of, memories, forgiveness is what I most pray for all who, like you, my heart, my soul, my spirit did lay. Clouds fill the skies, shadows fill the eyes, nothing more is capable of slipping out of, or into my steeled door. All there is, walks, talks, sunsets caressing, kissing a sandy shore, this is all that this old soul, this young fool, Mr. cool, looks for. Shirley, you are able to see the gate, opening into my yard, and know, inside will grow, many an inadequate word this bard will lay upon the page, trying to express, what comes so hard to one who knows, a poet he is not but an infinitesimal shard of a holographic image projected across time for you to see, to understand, beyond what it was, I was thought to be. Shirley, some truths come to light, casting shadows of me on the face of space, that might reveal the real deal, set us all free. Shirley, digging into passing time’s, shifting sand, with a crystal clear hour glass in one’s hand, will ? - be the test of my wasted time – stand among the faded, veiled memories of friends, or will I ?, having reached out and touched the ends of all, find there is no one left who defends what is left of my life, left of y name, to tell or to listen to the stories of my life’s game, or will my life come to an end as it came ? Does it really matter ?, Shirley, it will be the same as it has always been and will always be for me, a vaporous image whispering past – nothing to see of what once was, what I am, or could be and so, off to the lands of our beginning – the sea, where all ends up some day, to play and be free. This one has rode the wild winds of chance, from birth , to living life, to deaths solemn dance. Somewhere ?, among these adventures, enjoyed some romance that offered love, passion – communion to enhance my days, nights, dream filled, memories hoard
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