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 the photo graphic, 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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The Polar Ice Cap
What If There Was No Tomorrow? - The Polar Ice ‘Cap’ - this time it’s burnt and curled upon a new head. The sweet smoke of his sugarloaf effigy black as night, surrounded by a material red trim, below Parliament houses blows political greed into fiery smouldering smithereens – then it floated and landed after years, drifting, onto the crown of a man: a business man portraying wealth and class; here it sat above suit and below sun. The American dream swirled with scotch and the tip of a bowler, only for the same piece (restyled of coursed) to later sell for pounds to make the pupils of any impoverished person pop: his Hamburg with a knowing dent in back, how it span and spun from black to grey and back again around Hill’s peak to be dyed again and tilted just so. Now it’s pillbox pink and a knitted O of a name/shape-sake that covers her head where her husband had a target upon his. Watermelon-pink colour dye actually: the very same fruit palette of brain cradled in her hands at high speed. This latest star attraction of Burgdorf’s no doubt was, decades prior, nothing but a mix of lifeless green and sludge brown from grass and cud - metallic dead daises ducking over No Man’s Land. A Brodie: styled on a not-yet-pulled pin grenade atop beads of sparkling sweat, dripping slipping salt where now a pedal controlled sewing machine stabs and pins sequins into veils that hide brides with (it must be said) the same success that protected Fawkes’ Plot or Churchill’s reputation or Jackie’s husband and the slaughtered soldiers’ skulls - but still the accessories twist into fascinators fancy enough for mothers to weep below, only to find the box dish or bow to be knocked akilter during the traditional bouquet mad dash - then up – up – up! into the air before landing anew, refreshed as a Gatsby or Hijab, perhaps a Trilby or Zucchetto; better yet, the Boater or Sailor we’ll need when the hat that covers all our heads smoulders and peaks when next dented and melted: a loose grenade we can’t be veiled from, nor refashioned nor restyled when the next season’s must have will be a copper and bolt protective Diving Mask for the drowning tomorrow from The Polar Ice 'Cap'.
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