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 “Let me be strong, for to be anything else is to languish in the abyss of compromise and to descend to places of impoverishment so destitute that they will squelch my soul and crush my heart.” Craig D Lounsbrough When left to languish in lament. Metaphorical swords become tired from words portrayed through bloodshed. Misery is a master of manipulation, pulling strings of sorrow, personifying portraits of puppets in pain. When dreams and desires disappear, nonchalantly negating nocturnal nigrifying nightmares, a heavy heart hoarding hurt is helpless, crawling like a caterpillar without a cocoon. In an anthology of anguish, spirit withers in a lyrical language, lost in lanes of latent lament, so we search for signs to our secret sanctum, to heal broken wings of bandaged butterflies. When hope, like carnations of death, crumbles, resembling crying chrysanthemums. Tepid tears of tribulation, trickle in trails of tired tinges of insecurities - yet we still yearn for an expurgated Eden. In the internal insanity of suffering, sanity searches for a relief from repression, as our existence can emanate into a chalice full of missed challenges, if we do not learn from life's lessons. When trauma reverberates on repeat. Words are as fragile as a beautiful ballerina, without a ballad in a ballet of broken hearts. Yet our pens crave to dance on virgin fibers. Our souls are an essence of evanescent emotions. There are no winners in battles with silence. In the rationale of reason. raging rutilant ink pleads to pour puddles of purifying poetry, gracefully releasing breaths of suppression - A speechless saviour for timid tongues.
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