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 A little red fox Entered the forest one night The moon failed to pass through the canopy A dark crunch he felt, as he walked each time He wasn’t scared though He didn’t have a reason to be His kin would find him For sure there was no need to grieve Until he remembered That they weren’t the same souls he once knew They’d abandoned him at the edge of the mountain Nothing absurd or new He was used to it The quick silver changes In their voices as they would play In their expressions as they would say “We love you” But they wouldn’t change for him “We'll understand you” But they pushed him away yet again They treated him like a criminal When he’d try to be one of them Don’t break your word, he’d cry Only to be heartbroken again “We’ll be kind to you” Falling for that one promise He’d foolishly landed up Here at the edge of the mountain Where he had once thought their temperament would never change Hi readers! So the poem ends here but I wanted to attach a little piece from my thoughts. I would be grateful if you would read it and perhaps, you could relate. I don’t understand why people do what they do. Sometimes they say selfish things, it hurts me but I’m told to get used to the ways of the world. Why must I bend my heart to avoid shattered glass from cutting through, why is it not them who are told not to break it in the first place. Either way, my heart ends up getting cut, and I end up back here to write it in poetry. For in no other way would the world understand if I tore it all apart one fine day. They wouldn’t think I smoked something or went insane, they’d know it was them who made me slowly turn against everything I thought I knew and everything I felt I was. They’d know that I did it not because I hated them, but because I hated the way I was supposed to not mind all the hurt and forget all the times my thoughts were conveniently left unheard. And if my ghost were to take revenge, it’d simply wait beside my grave for all the hypocrites who broke their promises and changed. For it was them whom I had leaned on to make the world slightly bearable, but it was also them who refused to share any burden of my faltering heart and tireless mind.
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