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.
Enter Title (Not Required)
Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Suddenly over the sudden years I have felt an encumbrance; I sense an albatross - the weight of sundry uncharted days. Times I chronicle today as if I were a wax cylinder and not the broken spool in a cassette tape. A subfuse goose whispers: Record the sky for me. I must write ‘sky’ ten times a day so that the abated will not be forgotten. Yet how to keep a goose-gray sky fresh when the days are so metallically shiny and blue? None recall the monochrome stories we once told our color-blind children? They have grown beyond such things. I have so little time, yet must set down the legend of little boy gray, his history has almost passed away, now eyes have no corners to see. I knew him well, alas the roads to that tale are backhoed by cartoon rainbows. History calls me out into the park where a lineage of dog leads the nose to a yesteryear, a brawling time free from the wow and weight of newness. we lived then as historians leading other historians upon trails of immemorial sensations. Meadow larks meant something once, but now look at them, they strut like roosters over the journals of the dead! History cannot now be cured; it is far gone, its prone, hump-backed form encumbers like a speed bump. Wordsworth and his damn golden daffodils - as if we did not know already. I hover over histories sickbed my impedimenta droop like the dewlaps of a prodigal deity. Only a moment ago history ran through hill and dale as naked as an infant, its fields were alive with love, war, and kapok - a stuffed, full metal jacket; a saucily heraldic Kevlar. I breathe into histories colorless lungs, there are flocks of moribund geese tucked into each alveoli and bronchi, they have plucked themselves naked, they long for the ten sky’s named in my cinereal histories. I shoulder this burden of faded things, this molting albatross, all the trappings of then and thereupon, these I place now in an ash lined and crumbling vault.
Enter Author Name (Not Required)