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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Dark Tourism
Ground Zero came at one hundred degrees. A fusing of life and death. The graveyard came at twelve O’Clock Not a single body to be seen. From that infinite shadow I saw a light. A woman. A goddess. A broken flame. All that remained was a broken sky; That holocaust of endless crimson. The purged sky, forever more, And hopeless onlookers were we. The woman managed to find me. Her words did not find her. It was as if she had forgotten how to speak. Just like the skeletons beneath us. Specs and shards of shattered shield. Just clusters of glass-like bone. Beneath them, clusters of bone-like glass. We did not know where to look. We looked at each other, instead. Hidden from one another no more. I imagined what her smile was like, Beneath the glass, beneath the frame. All I could imagine was a frown. A frown like the one I kept close. The grass beneath me was like sand. The sky above me, acid. My mask and face became the same, Just sand and smoke and nothing more. She looked up into the sky. Remembering what had once been. All that is is what once was, And I could not help but remember. We’d gotten used to life after death. The pleasure through all this pain. Digging through shells of discarded men, Picking the flesh from the bone. The woman of my dreams was gone. And I thought only of one question: How did we let it get this way? The endless night which follows day.
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things