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
Blood Tells You a Lie
Blood tells you a Lie. Its dirt will, strip you clean Its teeth rip out your beating heart like a statue,you stand De robbed cold in its shredding winter blast. It deals out numb, gorges on your dignity steals your guilt pecked last crumbs leaves them hanging on your feeble trust like dissolving icicles mingled and minced in your candy-flossed threaded mind. You,mix,the details around in your night sweat damp sheet silence Cwtched up,too nighttime’s loneliness. Pillows whisper advice for hours, they deal a hand of confrontation, and calm pond outcomes are known, from flown by past time where you sat in a cold moons drip wringing pale, nail picked caring hands again shaping truths into clay happiness. Sifting the grains that remain into many wasted castles of sand, while hours swim, Looking for the end game plan but It does not come, morning does though. The adhesive of blood, or genes produce no repair, your left holding cupped hands a smashed egg timer, Its grains spilt, In the kitchen of your pain.
Copyright © 2024 John Lusardi. All Rights Reserved

Book: Reflection on the Important Things