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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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Once, when I was young – another writer, A poet and poetry lover, someone undiscovered… She (it could have been he since I only knew Pen names that faded from my memory once The words had left their imagery)… Anyway, she or he… told me that my poetry, Yes, MY POETRY, the words that I wrote, The little flawed victims of my heart, my soul, Thoughts that were sometimes fleeting – And, other times, like some leech settling in Around my life, overwhelmed by the letters, The rhymes, the rhythms that felt like liquid laughter, Kissing away the shadows that clung to my mind – She or he – told me that my poetry reminded them Of Plath! The one and only… Sylvia Plath.. It felt like a death sentence in a way, but I learned to listen To the memory like it was one heartbeat away from Losing its hold on me, the memory has no real power – It loses its ability to tempt and torture, its gift for doubt Its capacity and urgency, blaming the winds of autumn, The sing song sounds of spring, the melancholic mist of winter, The ache of summer plays in trembling octaves of verse – While I remember… Her suicide and then, years past that poet’s pointed clue Finding out I was bipolar and knowing what it is… Feeling crazy, like a druggie or – the woodpecker must… Feel the crazy that comes from thumping away at that oak, Striking it again and again with a beak that couldn’t have been Made by man. Only God could have created the woodpecker and only God Could have silenced the fear in my heart when I thought of… The mania that shredded my hopes and plunged me into doubt, And, only God could have been such a dependable friend That I never felt the need to take the life that He gave to me, The same life He saved when He forgave me for my sins. Not so much like Plath, you see… not so much like Plath, Who will always be a lesson to poets who believe… Only God has the right to whisper farewell to the light, The light He stirred inside when He promised you this time, These precious moments, this life – blessed by grace, Inspired by faith and brought to glory by the love that He gave.

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Dead End Street

Once, when I was young – another writer, A poet and poetry lover, someone undiscovered… She (it could have been he since I only knew Pen names that faded from my memory once The words had left their imagery)… Anyway, she or he… told me that my poetry, Yes, MY POETRY, the words that I wrote, The little flawed victims of my heart, my soul, Thoughts that were sometimes fleeting – And, other times, like some leech settling in Around my life, overwhelmed by the letters, The rhymes, the rhythms that felt like liquid laughter, Kissing away the shadows that clung to my mind – She or he – told me that my poetry reminded them Of Plath! The one and only… Sylvia Plath.. It felt like a death sentence in a way, but I learned to listen To the memory like it was one heartbeat away from Losing its hold on me, the memory has no real power – It loses its ability to tempt and torture, its gift for doubt Its capacity and urgency, blaming the winds of autumn, The sing song sounds of spring, the melancholic mist of winter, The ache of summer plays in trembling octaves of verse – While I remember… Her suicide and then, years past that poet’s pointed clue Finding out I was bipolar and knowing what it is… Feeling crazy, like a druggie or – the woodpecker must… Feel the crazy that comes from thumping away at that oak, Striking it again and again with a beak that couldn’t have been Made by man. Only God could have created the woodpecker and only God Could have silenced the fear in my heart when I thought of… The mania that shredded my hopes and plunged me into doubt, And, only God could have been such a dependable friend That I never felt the need to take the life that He gave to me, The same life He saved when He forgave me for my sins. Not so much like Plath, you see… not so much like Plath, Who will always be a lesson to poets who believe… Only God has the right to whisper farewell to the light, The light He stirred inside when He promised you this time, These precious moments, this life – blessed by grace, Inspired by faith and brought to glory by the love that He gave.