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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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required When tuscan tunes of twilight, cascade as clementine confetti, She searches for secret silhouettes, swirling to the symphony of sunflower serenades. In the midst of faded fields, marigold memories crawl back, refraining yesterday’s tangerine dreams. Swans glide in sullen grace, illustrating a saffron backdrop from sweet sighs of fauna’s concerto. Harmony of melodies is the idyllic essence of dulcet beginnings. A plethora of prewritten words soar as passionate notes, harvested through hypnotic crescendos, emanating amber toned scales, whilst she sways below apricot streaked skylines, adorned in champagne hued consonants, synchronizing dandelion desires, fluttering beyond darkness that floats, as lyrical lines vibrate, and ascend to euphonious heights, where bronze keys of her mellifluous heart, evolve from a tapestry of twinkling tenors. Her muse mimics scentless petals. There’s no wrong interval, when performing in a world, where rays of honeyed glow drift, veiling the rhythm, between bleeding dusk and dawn. Changing chords remain oblivious, to the pulsating pain, as her perfectly manicured fingers lift. The hunter’s moon too refuses to see, how her heart no longer is made of flowers, but nostalgic ferns and leafless forests, that twist and turn— wilting away to songs of sorrow. But there’s a maestro with a pristine prologue. He understands her mind blisters when colors tumble. How her fragility has been sleeping on weathered pansies. He guides her to softly press the porcelain frame of piano keys, playing the prelude to a classical sonata, lost in the maple waves of wind-blown whispers. Her oak leaf twirls and sows duets of sanguine tomorrows, pitching lines within veins rhymed in vain. Birds of paradise croon to orchestrated hope and love, while a palette of sounds piercingly rise to unravel a synopsis for healing.
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