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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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DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE EMOTIONAL ISSUES I was born in a land far, far away called... home. Not yet still-born. A place of iced mountain mazes, that were once warm, like an oasis of blessings, featured. Life, overlooking question marked plains, where the grass is green and the wind, wild and unfiltered. Where adventure and path was half-balanced, teetered. Hung on the Horizon like the Moon in High Holy Day in shift phase-,shifting phase-shift, of the nurtured. Still, a Banshee Howling; a Temptress-Whore, lifting all protocol of the Hunt, "About Face." Her XXX breathe,-iced gossamer- lining a sarcophagus below the succession-chain pyramid of gathered slaves', witness. Whipped foam in sheet-layers of emotional-strata denied by iced Earth and Zombie Tomb. Society will have its sheep and its shepherds. Voices do cry in the Wilderness. Echoes cracked in the darkessphere. None. The less. The lesser. An hourglass-of-open-window- shards, the- daylight-stained-looking-glass- piercing-the-veil-of-dusks-Sovereign-Sentencing. The chill of my spine, her memory. A promise of reunion as she smirks back with puzzle-encrypted messages. My Home went away from me, to re-address ceremonies' garb. With flinty eyes that bore witness to an empty womb. Was it me? The Banshee Howling: I lived in a house of glass in a place forbidden to ever be seen. To ever be.. The mirrors promise reflected a lonely, loveless woman. Her beauty was too perfect to be real. She was the one who left me. To search for better things on these Streets. To a place called none. She was gone, but her memory lingers on. For me, the Sonic Howling. The memory of her... A Banshee Howling; The memory of our union, reunion, re-toothed in cold steel. Of ritual, undoing, dung. The premise : I was unborn in a far-away place where the grass has never been. Never was real. A holo sonogram. Life's hologram. The mirror's tear. Just a shadow, of one teasing shades of cruelty of what could, has, not wanted. Here? There? No more? There there. No more tears.

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The Forbidden Tear In the Dark

DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE EMOTIONAL ISSUES I was born in a land far, far away called... home. Not yet still-born. A place of iced mountain mazes, that were once warm, like an oasis of blessings, featured. Life, overlooking question marked plains, where the grass is green and the wind, wild and unfiltered. Where adventure and path was half-balanced, teetered. Hung on the Horizon like the Moon in High Holy Day in shift phase-,shifting phase-shift, of the nurtured. Still, a Banshee Howling; a Temptress-Whore, lifting all protocol of the Hunt, "About Face." Her XXX breathe,-iced gossamer- lining a sarcophagus below the succession-chain pyramid of gathered slaves', witness. Whipped foam in sheet-layers of emotional-strata denied by iced Earth and Zombie Tomb. Society will have its sheep and its shepherds. Voices do cry in the Wilderness. Echoes cracked in the darkessphere. None. The less. The lesser. An hourglass-of-open-window- shards, the- daylight-stained-looking-glass- piercing-the-veil-of-dusks-Sovereign-Sentencing. The chill of my spine, her memory. A promise of reunion as she smirks back with puzzle-encrypted messages. My Home went away from me, to re-address ceremonies' garb. With flinty eyes that bore witness to an empty womb. Was it me? The Banshee Howling: I lived in a house of glass in a place forbidden to ever be seen. To ever be.. The mirrors promise reflected a lonely, loveless woman. Her beauty was too perfect to be real. She was the one who left me. To search for better things on these Streets. To a place called none. She was gone, but her memory lingers on. For me, the Sonic Howling. The memory of her... A Banshee Howling; The memory of our union, reunion, re-toothed in cold steel. Of ritual, undoing, dung. The premise : I was unborn in a far-away place where the grass has never been. Never was real. A holo sonogram. Life's hologram. The mirror's tear. Just a shadow, of one teasing shades of cruelty of what could, has, not wanted. Here? There? No more? There there. No more tears.