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 In the starry night sky With clouds overhead A man may wonder why The living are the dead And from the living true life has fled As he walks down the misty road, He sees many doors that are closed. He doesn’t want to open them, for they are filled with dread, And trying to escape their dark presence, he fled. He ran quickly and blindly, to and from, he knew not where, When in a starlit dale he sees a mere. It is calling to him, begging him near, Trying to draw him in its black embrace. His eyes are fixed on it, despite his fear, He wishes that he were not here. In the murky depths he sees a face, And the pool tells its story without much haste. A person who had lost the way, To find the warmth and light of day. He never knew what happened to him, All he knew was his life was grim. His entire mind was consumed with hate, Something that sent him on his fate. Always seeing the dark side of life, Seeing death start daily strife. Never letting out of his sight, The people who started this plight. He walked into the moonlit doors of oblivion, Still trying to prove he was someone. He was never able to, So he started anew. He went into the half-world to enter the light, It pretended to ignore him, pretended it had no sight. To see that it never was his fault, And his heart was just an empty vault. Nothing would accept him, nothing ever would, He tried like only an empty man could. But nothing had he gained, And past the limit his spirit was strained. Outcast by everyone, loved by no one, the poor wretch, Into his spirit was ingrained the last etch. There he lay on the misty grass of time, Until Eternity picked him up, crying. Thusly the least caring cared for him, The most grievous battle he could ever win. Now the tale is done, and he knows who has won, Upon the valley, brightly shines the sun. Wonderful as a young summer maiden, With good news she is laden. For now, all about himself he does know, But he turns, as he must, to the shadow.
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