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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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"The Payload" The payload came crashing down like rain expelled from the fat belly of a ruinous pregnant cloud bilious with buxom promise it came crashing down like school fish released from the tight confines of a course rope net heavy onto a deck, where harried feet shuffled like cards it arrived prematurely with some strange mystery like a hidden meaning heard in the crackling of dry autumn leaves, and whisper of breeze past the ear like a feather floating down down to the ground as if an envelope delivered by anxious owl proxied with impending news, it fell, before one tread their next step; the crunch came when one felt the sharp interruption under boisterous boot, which gingerly pushed the pile of pungent Winter rot aside and bent down to observe with their wide open eyes hidden, there, in the peat bog like loot, the rising scent of the dead, pine leaves unruffled loose for the chase, yet - still, incomplete, albeit wanton, supine in the fecund soil, lusty blood worms lazily turning, not forlorn lovingly climbing legs of scurrilous moist roots as if 'tween splayed web of tree spirits’ and gnomes’ fingers and toes, squelching joyfully in the lavish fresh wet, had no time to doze musky rodent scat littering dung bug mottled bark, the colour of moss, carnal toads camouflaged entwined in bank bilge mud of charcoal and soot, slipping long velvet tongues out to Venus Fly Traps, like caressing partners in the hunt, swallowing arachnid, gnats, horned beetles and such life moved subatomic, somewhat subterranean, breaking seals in small revelations, the message came softly, silently expelling gilled satin red caps like small buttons, flecked with white fayre paint, dancing up the spine of brittle dull scattered bones, tickling fungi, enamoured with the acridity of silky lichen written like Kalevala runes all over a lost body of work there, in the elevation of such solemn property the message, like some disease slowly spreading, breaching over scapula, invading northwards, towards the broken, chalk antlers of skeletal King stag, the harnessed skull stuffed with Sialia nest, its eye sockets, open, eerily examining the external intruder, spies the shine of pale blue eggs signalling the other, the internal voice, like oculei dei novum as if some avatar demiurge in consort with insignificant small bird, progressed to pull one in telepathically with this magick message absurd, the ivy in the mind climbs cautiously and curiously peers through the windows from slow observation deck, the internal one questions, “what chicanery this?” as if conspiring to flummox the now supernatural frost falling upon one's heart, as if something other was buried in the meaning of this Paradise Lost? There, before the observer, stare solemn blue eyes, constant, alert, yolked ready, as if to break like seven seals break, they watch and they wait, they break in their own time - now or then, 'tis never too late; between, the chalky lips underneath the broken teeth of the beast, a grin gapes leaking a smile, no tongue for the speak, in the cavity, like a wonderous cave unmeasured, or an open trap door, there reveals a small treasure, unexpected, surreal, one just knows - there's so much more, a piece of fading parchment, tattered yellow, demands its release the observer bends to one's knees, as if genuflecting without ease, gathering to oneself some light from ghostly will-o-the-wisps, min min some say, but then, some also say fey, to take in what little light left from that glow worm glen time, when long night steals fading day, they bedazzle their aura over the puzzled one, deciphering odd scrawl in lapis lazuli ink it reads, “for all creatures, this labyrinth, has unexplored territories go where’st they wilt, do as thou please, in my realm there are many rooms, dark and light for you, you alone, alone, I construct long night and short day, birds and bees, leviathans, oceans holy and unholy sees, sunshine 'n rain, pleasure 'n pain, trees holding secrets written in rings, forever circling the meaning of things, the mystery of such encapsulates much, your history, you see, some pleasant, yet quite frightening things, like nightmarish dreams, forests you like to cut down because you’re foolish and mercenary, like stories, the precious woods breathe, so you may live, think and feel, you may see, the truth in it all, if you choose to believe, skies that cry beam with joy, writing their stories down in great veins of bolt lightening, thunder is the spoken word - You are quite able to hear the messages when you please, you doubt this, and yourself, because you are still very small, a mere human; in time, eventually you will understand it all, when you are no longer of Man; however, do remember, to leave the door open as you turn the key to go your own way, for other creatures and their stories to walk in like lost souls, so they may see, with their own eyes and minds, how it all is, to gift them freedom in their noteworthy and knowledgeable say, for the listening lesson. I write the words, I write it all in the book, you’re right there amongst it all, if you care to open your heart like your eyes take a read, take a very good look I am there, in your mind, that says it all does it not? some will say crazy, others will not; take the time to walk through all your chapters, take a very good look, there’ll be questions after matins that matter; possibly, but not lastly, some supper, discussion is off the chart off the hook alone time with me, should be interesting off the page, as they say out of that book, what a treat! don’t roll your eyes at me, when I speak. my bite is worse than my bark, if you take the time to understand and to look. after review, we’ll look at the edit again and pull the whole story apart, for the troops (LadyLabyrinth / 2023)

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The Payload

"The Payload" The payload came crashing down like rain expelled from the fat belly of a ruinous pregnant cloud bilious with buxom promise it came crashing down like school fish released from the tight confines of a course rope net heavy onto a deck, where harried feet shuffled like cards it arrived prematurely with some strange mystery like a hidden meaning heard in the crackling of dry autumn leaves, and whisper of breeze past the ear like a feather floating down down to the ground as if an envelope delivered by anxious owl proxied with impending news, it fell, before one tread their next step; the crunch came when one felt the sharp interruption under boisterous boot, which gingerly pushed the pile of pungent Winter rot aside and bent down to observe with their wide open eyes hidden, there, in the peat bog like loot, the rising scent of the dead, pine leaves unruffled loose for the chase, yet - still, incomplete, albeit wanton, supine in the fecund soil, lusty blood worms lazily turning, not forlorn lovingly climbing legs of scurrilous moist roots as if 'tween splayed web of tree spirits’ and gnomes’ fingers and toes, squelching joyfully in the lavish fresh wet, had no time to doze musky rodent scat littering dung bug mottled bark, the colour of moss, carnal toads camouflaged entwined in bank bilge mud of charcoal and soot, slipping long velvet tongues out to Venus Fly Traps, like caressing partners in the hunt, swallowing arachnid, gnats, horned beetles and such life moved subatomic, somewhat subterranean, breaking seals in small revelations, the message came softly, silently expelling gilled satin red caps like small buttons, flecked with white fayre paint, dancing up the spine of brittle dull scattered bones, tickling fungi, enamoured with the acridity of silky lichen written like Kalevala runes all over a lost body of work there, in the elevation of such solemn property the message, like some disease slowly spreading, breaching over scapula, invading northwards, towards the broken, chalk antlers of skeletal King stag, the harnessed skull stuffed with Sialia nest, its eye sockets, open, eerily examining the external intruder, spies the shine of pale blue eggs signalling the other, the internal voice, like oculei dei novum as if some avatar demiurge in consort with insignificant small bird, progressed to pull one in telepathically with this magick message absurd, the ivy in the mind climbs cautiously and curiously peers through the windows from slow observation deck, the internal one questions, “what chicanery this?” as if conspiring to flummox the now supernatural frost falling upon one's heart, as if something other was buried in the meaning of this Paradise Lost? There, before the observer, stare solemn blue eyes, constant, alert, yolked ready, as if to break like seven seals break, they watch and they wait, they break in their own time - now or then, 'tis never too late; between, the chalky lips underneath the broken teeth of the beast, a grin gapes leaking a smile, no tongue for the speak, in the cavity, like a wonderous cave unmeasured, or an open trap door, there reveals a small treasure, unexpected, surreal, one just knows - there's so much more, a piece of fading parchment, tattered yellow, demands its release the observer bends to one's knees, as if genuflecting without ease, gathering to oneself some light from ghostly will-o-the-wisps, min min some say, but then, some also say fey, to take in what little light left from that glow worm glen time, when long night steals fading day, they bedazzle their aura over the puzzled one, deciphering odd scrawl in lapis lazuli ink it reads, “for all creatures, this labyrinth, has unexplored territories go where’st they wilt, do as thou please, in my realm there are many rooms, dark and light for you, you alone, alone, I construct long night and short day, birds and bees, leviathans, oceans holy and unholy sees, sunshine 'n rain, pleasure 'n pain, trees holding secrets written in rings, forever circling the meaning of things, the mystery of such encapsulates much, your history, you see, some pleasant, yet quite frightening things, like nightmarish dreams, forests you like to cut down because you’re foolish and mercenary, like stories, the precious woods breathe, so you may live, think and feel, you may see, the truth in it all, if you choose to believe, skies that cry beam with joy, writing their stories down in great veins of bolt lightening, thunder is the spoken word - You are quite able to hear the messages when you please, you doubt this, and yourself, because you are still very small, a mere human; in time, eventually you will understand it all, when you are no longer of Man; however, do remember, to leave the door open as you turn the key to go your own way, for other creatures and their stories to walk in like lost souls, so they may see, with their own eyes and minds, how it all is, to gift them freedom in their noteworthy and knowledgeable say, for the listening lesson. I write the words, I write it all in the book, you’re right there amongst it all, if you care to open your heart like your eyes take a read, take a very good look I am there, in your mind, that says it all does it not? some will say crazy, others will not; take the time to walk through all your chapters, take a very good look, there’ll be questions after matins that matter; possibly, but not lastly, some supper, discussion is off the chart off the hook alone time with me, should be interesting off the page, as they say out of that book, what a treat! don’t roll your eyes at me, when I speak. my bite is worse than my bark, if you take the time to understand and to look. after review, we’ll look at the edit again and pull the whole story apart, for the troops (LadyLabyrinth / 2023)