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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.

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As I wash these dishes. I wash the wishes from these tired and ruined hands. I look out into the street with a thousand yard stare Eyes lost glazed bare… I see my children playing in these dirty and broken streets in an iron wasteland. They know nothing of fields oceans flowers or a brilliant sun. They only know towers of glass, chrome, burning cars, n broken neon bars. As muddy dark clouds gather, ash drifts, trash litters here n there. Dry thunder rumbles. Fragments of yesterday tumbles solemnly aloft in desolations winds. So with each cruel word. With each hand across my face… fuels my hate. With each blow each loathsome glance… I feel something drying, cracking falling… Each lie from his lips drives devotion away. I slice the dry Rye. Look out onto the street to see my little boys at play… I need to leave these wasted lands. These wastelands of cold hard stares n cruel innuendos… that hurt like fist across the back of the belove. I cry each day. I die a little along the way. I die each minute of the passing hour. Stones, drop into this broken heart. Each stone builds a wall of isolation. I drown in the well of bottomless desolation. As I look out in to desolations boulevard I wash these cracked and dirty dishes and wash these wishes from these raw hands n watch my children run in play… …this iron wasteland.

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Woman of the Wasteland I of III

As I wash these dishes. I wash the wishes from these tired and ruined hands. I look out into the street with a thousand yard stare Eyes lost glazed bare… I see my children playing in these dirty and broken streets in an iron wasteland. They know nothing of fields oceans flowers or a brilliant sun. They only know towers of glass, chrome, burning cars, n broken neon bars. As muddy dark clouds gather, ash drifts, trash litters here n there. Dry thunder rumbles. Fragments of yesterday tumbles solemnly aloft in desolations winds. So with each cruel word. With each hand across my face… fuels my hate. With each blow each loathsome glance… I feel something drying, cracking falling… Each lie from his lips drives devotion away. I slice the dry Rye. Look out onto the street to see my little boys at play… I need to leave these wasted lands. These wastelands of cold hard stares n cruel innuendos… that hurt like fist across the back of the belove. I cry each day. I die a little along the way. I die each minute of the passing hour. Stones, drop into this broken heart. Each stone builds a wall of isolation. I drown in the well of bottomless desolation. As I look out in to desolations boulevard I wash these cracked and dirty dishes and wash these wishes from these raw hands n watch my children run in play… …this iron wasteland.