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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.

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Blind Hearses Another dubious nuptial at sundown, Sequestered beyond the rolling tribal hills, South of Spring Street across the bridge, Down the road aways, maybe seven miles. Another ceremony of spoken vows and tears, Hidden carefully to the thorny south, Behind myriad grape vines all around, That lasso in the shadowed evenings of August, With their ripened essences and moistened residue, Breathe it all in now, this perfumed evening of lights, Sifting into your nostrils, with no sound at all, Except, shhh, do you hear those shrill voices in the distance? Can you hear their wine glasses tinkling And clinking, like melting ice in a sober shade? Blind hearses travel this way all the time now, Black and white and beige hearses, All seeking a crossroad in the swallowing fog, Carrying more astonished corpses, Dressed in ruined starched finery, Wearing nothing smiles carved like pumpkins, Down the side avenues leading to the Shadow, To the newly dug graves in the sunlight. A chorus of fools will enter inside the back way, As they have for decades of lost time; They will come to chant mournful dirges Into the non-listening, soul-stricken night. As again, one of their own, finds the Shadow, And the darkened avenue, with muted footsteps.

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Blind Hearses

Blind Hearses Another dubious nuptial at sundown, Sequestered beyond the rolling tribal hills, South of Spring Street across the bridge, Down the road aways, maybe seven miles. Another ceremony of spoken vows and tears, Hidden carefully to the thorny south, Behind myriad grape vines all around, That lasso in the shadowed evenings of August, With their ripened essences and moistened residue, Breathe it all in now, this perfumed evening of lights, Sifting into your nostrils, with no sound at all, Except, shhh, do you hear those shrill voices in the distance? Can you hear their wine glasses tinkling And clinking, like melting ice in a sober shade? Blind hearses travel this way all the time now, Black and white and beige hearses, All seeking a crossroad in the swallowing fog, Carrying more astonished corpses, Dressed in ruined starched finery, Wearing nothing smiles carved like pumpkins, Down the side avenues leading to the Shadow, To the newly dug graves in the sunlight. A chorus of fools will enter inside the back way, As they have for decades of lost time; They will come to chant mournful dirges Into the non-listening, soul-stricken night. As again, one of their own, finds the Shadow, And the darkened avenue, with muted footsteps.