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.



Enter Title (Not Required)

Enter Poem or Quote (Required)

Enter Author Name (Not Required)

Move Text:

Heading Text

       
Color:

Main/Poem Text

       
Color:
Background Position Alignment:
  | 
 

Upload Image: 
 


 
 10mb max file size

Use Internet Image:




Like: https://www.poetrysoup.com/images/ce_Finnaly_home_soare.jpg  
Layout:   
www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry
Attitude with latitude
Attitude with latitude originally written January 19th, 2019 and tension defines the dynamic Valiant prince sip pulled effort rebuffed, snubbed, thumbed courtesy eldest daughter uncontested vainglorious woke mine genuine apology, viz sincerely yours truly psyche asper paternal overture toward aforementioned offspring smitten with opprobrium figuratively smacked upside the head delivered sucker (judy shuss) punch crashing off "FAKE" pedestal, her emailed response rather disquieting cruel rebuttal set me unsettled beyond any experienced grief upon conscientious soul bearing headline message to "star student" starting "mother informed me my attempts to convey sentiments difficult to decipher, I (an average sixty four year young) Caucasian earthling, albeit married yet negligent emotionally endoersing marriage hope this endeavor expresses more clarity." Metaphorical wind knocked out of my sails found mine mindset fitbit spinning sentimental flashbacks comprising affectionate adulations those bygone days papa atop the world within perceived minecrafted dada's doting domain killed crash test dummy herewith vitriol now entirely excerpted: Personal communique from progeny: "I'm not sure what to say. My goal wasn't to make you suicidal, and I don't hate you guys. It is really quite demanding of you to ask me to forgive, when we're talking about 18 years of trauma. I believe that you both regret it but I don't know how that is supposed to change the impact of emotional/physical insecurity during some of the most formative years of my life. I wasn't raised to have a close relationship with either of you; I was often pushed away until eventually I gave up. I don't know what sort of relationship you want, to be completely honest. We were never the type of people to sit around the dinner table together or talk about what I learned in school/clubs. In fact, you often locked your door on Shana, and I until that forced us to learn to pick your lock. And mother shut herself off similarly. Do you simply want to hear the words "I forgive you" so you can stop feeling guilty about what you did to us? Do you just want to be absolved of the lasting impacts I've dealt with all my life? You raised me to become distant, and the only reason Shana isn't as distant as I am is because she hasn't fully built the community of friends to lean on that I have. I am genuinely asking (not a rhetorical question): what sort of relationship do you want? Or do you just want me to make you feel better by saying everything is forgiven?" The above daring deed done dirt cheap to allow, enable and provide understanding utter heartbreak, when she replied tummy pained poetic expression previously aired, yet also repeated to experience albeit vicariously, how I hammered out metered footnote to ease mental exertion titled "No Matter Papa Repents..." appended as helpful afterthought firstborn fizzled fielded filched bonafide heartfelt risk which olive branch flamed out into burnt offering. No Matter Papa Repents... Every blasted acrimonious misdeed aye indelibly perpetrated affecting ye and the Punim for life hounds me doggone soul night and day venomous wrath torments, strangles, racks... every bone in mine entire body suicidal ideations haunt every waking and sleeping hour, perhaps previous attempts to communicate, (albeit poetically - for no rhyme nor reason) fell short, asper yours truly to claim accountability, culpability, responsibility... unwittingly subjecting thee, a prized progeny with legacy, where diabolical, emotional, financial psychological... trauma compromised your care free growing up years namely while residing at 1148 Greentree Lane exacerbated by mine self absorption countless hours misspent whiling away precious time mesmerized more so with computer technology, versus prioritizing fleeting moments with "mother" and/or offspring yes..he now pays heavy price pursuing amorous liaisons gallivanting, flirting, emailing... impacting (obliviousness pitifully lame retort unacceptable) feigning much ado about nothing snappishly barking anger such vitriol (mine) sabotaged once in lifetime golden opportunity to foster, kindle pinterest with spouse and daughters subsequently deepening rift rivalling Mariana Trench love's labour's lost forever frittering away compounded half heartedly seeking employment even though - NO LIE inexplicable debilitating anxiety buzzfeeding panic attacks plaguing my psyche since...birth, incapacitating maximizing potential abilities playing havoc pledging troth with counterpart exhibiting mental health challenges unfairly begetting deux darling lasses thee bearing brunt of pennilessness, at aforementioned residence unlivable, horribly untidy, toxic with mold, cluttered... such offal sight, sounds of screaming, (when Shana nonverbal), stench... now suffer (PLEASE BELIEVE) suicidal ideation plagues my conscience pointed objects quite inviting remembrance of things past, a worse fate than sentenced to death at Sing Sing Up Pore! PLEASE FORGIVE DADA...?
Copyright © 2024 Matthew Harris. All Rights Reserved

Book: Shattered Sighs