Home » Poems » Poetry Art » Poetry Art / Greeting Card Maker

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.

Text
Layout
Background

Enter Title (Not Required)

Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required
In an irrevocable warp speed instant, my head collided into the likeness of drying tar, absorbing each horrid layer of concrete. That pitch-black, tacky substance covered my body, so that I was trapped, sightless, into immobility. With pounding pain, like a full force baseball bat swing to the skull, like a head cold amplified myriad times, my brain screamed for release inside walls of perpetual pressure, with nerve spasms massively extending beyond the central blow. The stench of blood-covered latex gloves and hand sanitizer attempting to halt disease, had me guessing that I was in a medical facility. I could taste metal, as if I was becoming part machine, conforming to constant monitor beeps. Morphine drips slipped me into hallucinations, or maybe just distressing dreams. My opaque mind tingled for air, breath gasping like an incessant snore, mouth slightly ajar. I imagined drools somewhere, but felt no dampness. Numbness soon overcame most pain, setting me into a panic of possible lost limbs, lost neck, lost head. Dread of the unknown cast me into a guarded sensation of always falling, anticipating the jarring end. Unable to scratch intermittent itches or ask for assistance, I twitched inwardly, trapped in a corridor of horrors, with siren flashes passing through the darkness, running for a door or window to open, or if locked, to kick vigorously through this mind prison. There are no doors. There are no windows. Only echoed pounding of familiar voices floating surrounded me. I could smell my wife's Tea Rose perfume upon approach, accompanied by my three mostly grown daughters with their authentic scent of home. Some named friends and acquaintances came at arbitrary times. Some offered slurred words in somber tones. Some were simply saturated in silence. All were drenched with unspeakable grief. Each loved one's screaming drop of saline made me cry inside, but I doubt it seeped outwardly. I longed to reach out to wipe away their liquid sorrow, but my muscles were limp, each limb like a redwood tree branch in stagnant air.

Enter Author Name (Not Required)

Move Text:

Heading Text

Color:

Main/Poem Text

Color:

Layout: TallShort

www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry

Comatose

In an irrevocable warp speed instant, my head collided into the likeness of drying tar, absorbing each horrid layer of concrete. That pitch-black, tacky substance covered my body, so that I was trapped, sightless, into immobility. With pounding pain, like a full force baseball bat swing to the skull, like a head cold amplified myriad times, my brain screamed for release inside walls of perpetual pressure, with nerve spasms massively extending beyond the central blow. The stench of blood-covered latex gloves and hand sanitizer attempting to halt disease, had me guessing that I was in a medical facility. I could taste metal, as if I was becoming part machine, conforming to constant monitor beeps. Morphine drips slipped me into hallucinations, or maybe just distressing dreams. My opaque mind tingled for air, breath gasping like an incessant snore, mouth slightly ajar. I imagined drools somewhere, but felt no dampness. Numbness soon overcame most pain, setting me into a panic of possible lost limbs, lost neck, lost head. Dread of the unknown cast me into a guarded sensation of always falling, anticipating the jarring end. Unable to scratch intermittent itches or ask for assistance, I twitched inwardly, trapped in a corridor of horrors, with siren flashes passing through the darkness, running for a door or window to open, or if locked, to kick vigorously through this mind prison. There are no doors. There are no windows. Only echoed pounding of familiar voices floating surrounded me. I could smell my wife's Tea Rose perfume upon approach, accompanied by my three mostly grown daughters with their authentic scent of home. Some named friends and acquaintances came at arbitrary times. Some offered slurred words in somber tones. Some were simply saturated in silence. All were drenched with unspeakable grief. Each loved one's screaming drop of saline made me cry inside, but I doubt it seeped outwardly. I longed to reach out to wipe away their liquid sorrow, but my muscles were limp, each limb like a redwood tree branch in stagnant air.