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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www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry
Erudite Destruction.
I sat in the rain with the world at my feet and I sighed. Staring into it's eyes; it's limitless gaze. I swooned amidst the tragedy of a starving visage. I cried at the birth of morning light; Of the sun dappled vastness; the twittering congregation that scorned my affections with ignorant, cheerful song. The rain continued to fall in shivering waves. Each droplet a wish I never made, a promise I never kept, a conclusion I never dared dream. While the trees sang in unison, each leaf rejoicing as my screams refused to interrupt their hedonistic sunrise. The morning opened its jaws; wide, loose and jagged, like the sharpened words of an ex lover. It spoke to me in tongues and sang to me in Dutch. I sat abashed, vainly interpreting such linguistically tainted insight with a gaping mouth and clenched fists. Revelling in the sadness of misunderstanding. I merely nodded then, smiling warmer than the rising sun, pretending that I had the slightest idea as to what the morning was all about. It laughed in my face. Offering me a hand and a look of condemnation, with a saddened smile that was too brief to register. Our palms met and I shuddered at the plainness of its touch. Onward we walked, as I marvelled at my fellow inmates. Rotten fruit of damaged trees, walls left unpainted, Stories that had reduced their writers to tears and disbelief. Tangled, weeping, sceptics. Erudite destruction. I would have screamed, had the night not already covered by mouth with the dark skin of a slender, furtive hand. I watched with disdain, knowing I was among my kin; I was one of the townsfolk in a city long since created and left to crumble in ruins. I felt the bile rise in my throat and the air leave my lungs as I began to run back into darkness. I turned my head so blithely that the morning shed a tear.
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