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 I've grown rusty and unused to summoning words from a blank page - but FINALLY - there's something new to describe. School (11th grade) is over - at last - and... more. There's a party tonight - a REAL, honest-to-God, in person, PARTY - for about 30 of us. Yes, vaccinations are documented. Life seems to be beginning again. I'm eager, like a boxer before the bell or a racehorse at the starting gate. I'm an animal, long constrained, who knows it's about to be set free. I'm as disorientated as an awakened dreamer and I find myself laughing, drunk with possibilities as I try on clothes for preliminary impressions. It's hard to quash tremors of impatience. I'm sick of helpless, indifferent, pandemic necessity. I'm SO tired of boredom, circling me like a vulture, in my panopticon palace - that I opted for a respite of pure terror - I'm SO clever. I'm skipping my senior year of high school and heading off to university. I'd rather die than risk spending another year in my room(s) - I almost went crazy . There's a paper on my desk, white as a bride. It says "ACCEPTED for fall term 2021." I’m trying not to let on that I’m afraid. Is desire always a tangle of impossible, contradictory impulses? I've decided that my life is my only real possession - my own, small, life-or-death riddle to solve. I want to live with intent, like I'm aimed at something and I'm going to chase happiness like it could be caught. My luggage is open - like alligator jaws. I stare into those tan, Ghurka depths - rigid with anxiety. My sister (home on vacation from her surgical residency) sees me eyeing the empty bags. "Are you worried?” She says, “You look worried." I normally find the sister-teacher-coach vibe irritating, but now, somehow, it seems reassuring. "No," I lie - then - "A bit," I admit, close-lipped. But that's a later worry =] p.s. I write short stories too =]
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