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 As an aperitif to understand the essence of thought Blood of a young tortoise touched my lips Seldom as it is - pure ichor – I whisper’d in a trot Let me get drunk on it while deifying the lunar eclipse That is what I deserve, that is what I ought. Is loneliness a hook up with the animalistic self? Wearing an anorak to withstand the wind of banality In the midst of a blizzard of an entrenched life Giving the advantage to the senses of vitality, Not more than Dido ripping her heart with a knife. Give me the rise of an insurrection I dreamt about as a boy A rebellion that would let principles be a judge, This would surely deliver the desire for joy, Or an uprising of the loyalists that won’t fudge But will steer clear off temptations or a ploy. As a grey fakir I paint a picture into a smudge, Away from an aureate garden of gild Into a desolate dryness of a scorch’d land With my sole soul strongly willed And a single stroke of my angry hand. I wished to give tonality in sound and in colour While being smitten by the freshly cut grass All the riches will never appease the dolour As I stand next to a window made of the Venetian glass. Here I am, in justice I fall Being accused of playing Pygmalion Exalted to the throne of Gaslight and all Given the heart on the platter as a medallion Draining an amassment of turbulence From the cluster of words that smack the gob And remain in our ears as stubborn permanence And I run, and run, and run, non-stop.
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