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 As the midnight sun cries sweet honey, the mourning moon croons caramelized deceit, like toffee-speckled leaves, whistling bewitching myths, seducing silenced silhouettes, engrossed in tangerine temptations, and mundane melodies of tethered time. But are we not lost wanderers, knitting forbidden tales of life; an undone work of mystical art, transcribed in incoherent dialects; perfectly scarred and bruised, like wounded warriors on the quest for picturesque perspectives, we waltz through an endless realm, stuck in a translucent loop of daisy chains and dahlia links in lilac lace, counting crestfallen jewels of Lunar grace, thirsting for deep russet harvests, to feed the drained void in vain ignorance, unaware of the shallow seeds, emanating hypnotic hypocrisy. For we are, mere echoes of cosmic frequencies, orchestrated to compose sanguine serenades, by the divine virtuoso and angels of utopia. And I question the Goddess of the twilight pearl~ what will the stars sing of us, when constellations crack and bleed into eclipsed rivers of faded galaxies? Are we not all sinners, pretending to play wise, spoken from a past that knew paper butterflies, so fake that it deserves a Nobel Prize, for stealing sanity and leaving us paralyzed, while we are suppressing passion, we can barely recognize, rising to right the wrongs to neutralize. Aren’t we human? We break and bleed, pleading through pain, to pacify angst. Are we not tenants within temporary tranquility? Engrossed in timeless truth, revealed from the halcyon castle, with saffron scriptures, even the blind can read? I ponder, would we still thrive amongst remnants embalmed in jinxed jasmines, amidst roses, so radiant and divine? I know not what I sow, across forlorn fields, with herbs of fruitful weeds, to attain profound peace, while this heart still is searching for perfumed petals flickering serenity. As life here on earth, is a lavender landscape, designed with transformative tulips, twirling in tune to the ephemeral anthems of exotic existence. So what are we but caged dreamers, singing songs of begonia bliss, into the sombre breeze, like fragmented figurines, sculpted from galactic granules, soaring above virgin vines, stretching beyond skies gliding with luminous lies. Perhaps we are an emerald aftermath of an immutable saga, sewn with silver sinned dust, shimmering in ashes and bones, like contoured skeletons, blanketed in balanced duality; stainless wings of ivory doves, water and air merged in tumultuous depths, strumming violin visions, from bronze strings of unwavering faith and eternal light.
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