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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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In the far Far East, a few strange Hindu temples are intricately carved, & are most pornographically exuberant, everywhere there are wrathful-playful-sexual- vengeful-gesturing-carousing-beckon -ing - ascending-descending-riding-weeping - flying - alluring - humping - bumping- twerking - singing, or just dancing around being the epitome of gods and godlings. Even in hotel America there is the heady scent of a rowdy sacredness as rooms are congested with hyped-up reveling deities. The enlightened ones, ride luggage carts in the dead of night, sing drunkenly, slam doors, or watch HBO with the volume way up. All is a sacred sloppiness. I was wearing, Day-Glo speedos in the elevator while ogling a page from the Kama Sutra, doors opened, revealing a giggling goddess, who seemed to be pointing to the infante silliness of everything partly or wholly human. That was in Muncie Indiana (a motel space I shared with a rumba dancing Kali and a bottle of Jim Beam). The vibe in that room was almost the same as in those temples. In the mind-hazed morning, (skull still aching from Kali's tender affections), the Tallahassee chapter of the honorable order of Harley riders regale me at breakfast with their juiced-up joie de vivre. Again the dancing Gods look down upon us; jovially they beg us to partake of their abandoned frivolity; meditating on this I rise slowly to the seventh floor of hotel Nirvana, where at last I meet my omnipresent self.

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Some Temples

In the far Far East, a few strange Hindu temples are intricately carved, & are most pornographically exuberant, everywhere there are wrathful-playful-sexual- vengeful-gesturing-carousing-beckon -ing - ascending-descending-riding-weeping - flying - alluring - humping - bumping- twerking - singing, or just dancing around being the epitome of gods and godlings. Even in hotel America there is the heady scent of a rowdy sacredness as rooms are congested with hyped-up reveling deities. The enlightened ones, ride luggage carts in the dead of night, sing drunkenly, slam doors, or watch HBO with the volume way up. All is a sacred sloppiness. I was wearing, Day-Glo speedos in the elevator while ogling a page from the Kama Sutra, doors opened, revealing a giggling goddess, who seemed to be pointing to the infante silliness of everything partly or wholly human. That was in Muncie Indiana (a motel space I shared with a rumba dancing Kali and a bottle of Jim Beam). The vibe in that room was almost the same as in those temples. In the mind-hazed morning, (skull still aching from Kali's tender affections), the Tallahassee chapter of the honorable order of Harley riders regale me at breakfast with their juiced-up joie de vivre. Again the dancing Gods look down upon us; jovially they beg us to partake of their abandoned frivolity; meditating on this I rise slowly to the seventh floor of hotel Nirvana, where at last I meet my omnipresent self.