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 What lies beneath the nuptial necropolis? Sun-glints of memory, warm rays of kinder days, tranquil as the soil-sleepers before they broke the coffin confines and howled free. What lies beneath the crying cairns? The pearling bones, bone-pearls of scattered skulls and souls. Draughts of the dead sculling frothing tides of Queen Anne's lace - tomb festoons of bridal lace, undulating umbels purling the marriage mausoleum. Beneath the wedding whiteout I thought was daylight, into the nightlight where we stumbled like sleepwalkers. And here rattled the homing bones, the family ivory; we could hear their unrest, scraping at loam. What lies beneath the soil clots that coffin-clattered like stones? Your father - black-rotten in his coffin. Borstal bastard knife slicing his sister's fingers; her blood a rushing ruby stream, her pain a scarlet scream. What lies beneath the old corpse copse, the sentient sentinel trees? Roots driving deep, roots of you; yew roots sprawling to clacking skeletal maws, to tangle and twine strangling the choke-ivy shrine. Taproots creeping through terra, groping for the black growth of father terror; the bone-burrow death that puppeted him puppeting you; now you lie with his voice, your eyes a green glaze he gazes through. Root-threads that wove and wed us, their tumorous tubers riddling the rancid soil where souls lie soiled and ache blue-bloat bruises - contusions of the broken child who lies in confusion beneath the facade of indifference, the dark father fist.
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