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.



Enter Title (Not Required)

Enter Poem or Quote (Required)

Enter Author Name (Not Required)

Move Text:

Heading Text

       
Color:

Main/Poem Text

       
Color:
Background Position Alignment:
  | 
 

Upload Image: 
 


 
 10mb max file size

Use Internet Image:




Like: https://www.poetrysoup.com/images/ce_Finnaly_home_soare.jpg  
Layout:   
www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry
Sick Art
"Sick Art" I walk the streets still and quiet I do not lie I do not betray what the heart belies pickled kidneys I am a ghost of my former self ears lent to hear the sweet music of the sounds so fraught caught up in the act of loving unnatural tendencies kissed I whispered into those same ears saucy secrets if only their eyes could speak instead they just fluttered like butterflies towards a haunting long dream, they were tired, and needing sleep, I addressed their undressed stories drunk on redrum letters scribed to taunt the hungry Peelers I was a challenge in those days enticing the imbeciles to find and feel something just, as I did in those quick moments of passion intoxicated and ravenous with the sensation of winning at something I am beyond reproach, incorrigible I cannot stop I walk the streets still and quiet I do not lie they search for me, still they, well positioned audience seated, unmoved and sedentary - scry electric through glass onions, never see the sting of what clues left so forcefully artistically remnant still seeping through the blue lit cobblestones dried all the veins by then I knew all the Bobbies most by name Enlightened, I smiled as I passed I was calling - it a night, after serving the community, it had been viscously easy working with dim Light I'd toiled quickly and efficiently it was a messy job but someone had to do it for the life of me I had been busy at work no one suspected the flounce of a skirt I walked the streets just like them under cover of darkness I carried my tools whoring my nurse’s apron I smiled as I passed the bob cats nodding, cretinous toms left my art out in the open my signature stylized to be found by the rats I love bombed I gave "Her" - a new bonnet, as a gift, as if placing it on her head as a crown, I had annointed her with unconditional trust - of course, everything arrives at an untimely, usually, transactional cost; a prayer and the sign of the cross let us not forget Love - got that bit over quickly when all was said and done ne'er a genuflection and without many a new friend, they had all been lonely in a loveless place so there she had finally found me as instructed she disrobed her life and folded it neatly and impressed it before me see through the window through the curtain space I covered for her so no one could see her unblemished nakedness the fear on her face on the alter, that cheap wooden chair with small ceremony she placed the cloth of her life a small fabric I gifted her again some last dignity and grace I escorted her genteelly tittering to bed she lay down her sweet head and wondered if there was love in the taking of a baby never mind gutting her entire life I stroked her fair neck Sickert couldn’t deliver the flourish of my art I knew exactly the way to a woman’s heart, her internal workings her mind, her fears what she inevitably longed for I opened her gates to heaven and delivered a little death yet heaven forbid, I digress, "He" was on their cards; let’s not forget the handsome homeless poet nearby murdering all his darlings He could have been my lover my friend well educated as priest medically disciplined Now he was meant for notoriety by schools, religious superiors, dignitaries, much greater men - not many women read him back then, granted he could write beautifully his beatitudes to his well-bleached peaceful end, some considered him Lord have mercy, a God send Given and freely granted I take puzzles and break them into pieces at an expensive price female bodies are indeed a work of art different women on display always beautiful in my head my motives to the very end of my daze I never myself once betrayed I held lives and secrets in my hands not all women gossip and at their peril they never suspected me once they thought in that final moment they’d discovered a crime of passion of the heart ‘twas more than that which was to be noticed my sick art imprinted in the minds and dreams of unknowns for centuries burying the mystery puzzle in timeless daze I placed an advertisement in foreign pages to be read, my parting gift as if to a dear friend not absent, loyal to the very last unknown unbittered end in mind tandem - “M.E.C.P. Last wish of M.E.W. Have not betrayed.” (LadyLabyrinth / 2021) "Incurable" And if my heart be scarred and burned, The safer, I, for all I learned; The calmer, I, to see it true That ways of love are never new- The love that sets you daft and dazed Is every love that ever blazed; The happier, I, to fathom this: A kiss is every other kiss. The reckless vow, the lovely name, When Helen walked, were spoke the same; The weighted breast, the grinding woe, When Phaon fled, were ever so. Oh, it is sure as it is sad That any lad is every lad, And what's a girl, to dare implore Her dear be hers forevermore? Though he be tried and he be bold, And swearing death should he be cold, He'll run the path the others went.... But you, my sweet, are different. (Dorothy Parker) viscous vicious
Copyright © 2024 Lady Labyrinth. All Rights Reserved

Book: Shattered Sighs