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)Required In the center of my chest sounds; A pestle and mortar that pound, With the rhythm of tudu-tudu-tudu; In a manner that flows, one and two and three;- breathe; The ratio of three to one, Three beats of my heart followed by one breath of my lungs- It defines properly the art of neonatal resuscitation! In brief,it is a fluttering chest. It goes forth from the thorax to the head, To be heard by the ears standing in the temporal areas. It breeds fear,like that acquired, As the footsteps of your opponent draw nearer; What is felt is similar to when you're scared, And all your pump can do is to beat faster, That more blood,that flows along with oxygen and glucose, May be made available to rescue a man in danger. What is felt is what an athlete gets during and after the race, Or what you will develop after the village dog has chased you. The cause,lies in the eyes of the scientists; Pregnancy, worries,hunger,activity and disease. Speculations in room for the origin of these! The cause,is with the traditionalists who say; Your neighbor cursed you that you may never get peace, And all theories of African chemistry are brought to light, Like the script of the "bowels of hell" before its actors. With the politicians sits the answer, That it is the pressure mounted on to one, By the nation that races their hearts. It is worse with anxiety, Like when I'm standing before people; And all they see is a quake between the breasts; With a little liquid falling off my face; And gasps for breath,and urinary urgency! It's all a scene of confusion and embarrassment, With deductions like "it's what comes with shortness". But I call it not my works but his, He that put my pieces together till I became me. Come closer,you that are doubting, And perform an auscultation, Or rather listen to my heart beats; Judge their regularity and rhythm and strength; Diagnose a palpitation or arrhythmia, For even I,do not know which is which. And on a normal day, Prepare a control experiment, In which you inject yourself with adrenaline, Or swallow salbutamol tablets; Allow them to reach your entire system, And record your observations and findings. Call them palpitations or arrhythmias Or whatever they are; Truth remains that they're irritating, Mostly on noticeable events of my life- Like reciting a poem to the judges, Preaching in a local church downtown, Or better still- Interacting with the man I'm crushing on. If I could silence this noise in my chest, I would be the woman of my dreams!
Enter Author Name (Not Required)