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 When the smoky quartz sun slumbers into a cold winter, we see the aftermath of a garnet twilight, it is then, we find rose stars that refuse to abandon us in shivering solitude, and beneath snake-skinned skylines of nadir, we learn to appreciate the truest colors of nature…… Hope is but a hollow rope, hanging loose on empty lies~ splattered across eclipsed skies, and this aching heart sighs, singing to the fallen flowers, fading into depths of black-magic silence, for peace is a distant memory, frozen within pixelated Polaroids of poignant pain. I remember the night I was unplugged and strangled in toxic tremors, slipping into fatigued negligence, too tired of fighting a battle with no prudence, but no one hears the unspoken, amidst the tears that croon in tragic tunes. Now my mind is a muted mausoleum; weathered and withdrawn, impregnated with deceased dreams~ and remnants embalmed in poison ivy. Yet diabolical thoughts keep whirling through funeral chaos, to cloak my conscience in a glass casket of sleepless uncertainties, smothering the last breath I held. I do not seek an orchard blooming with butterfly orchids and pristine pansies, yet, somehow, I am the wrinkled willow~ awaiting dancing rays of diamond twilight. Perhaps this is how a poet grieves, writing epitaphs with bloodstained ink, when familiar faces are clothed in ivory farewells, to rest amongst the forgotten, away from the cruelty that creeps. I know not the synonyms for healing, the poems I’ve woven beneath starry skies now flow undone, and I am burning, in my crippling confusion, pondering why the sun is now a curse in disguise, why do I long to walk through forests of ruins, where the mauve moon was, when insomniac instruments of galaxies strummed broken strings of feathered fate. So take this poem, weave these words it into the final line of tasteless satires, streaming in the rhythm of zestless zenith, for I have no desire to pretend and play, or swirl and sway when all I knew now is a melancholic mystery untold. So listen to the rhapsody of tears~ I am a frazzled firefly, eloquently tangled in the ruthless roots of jinxed junipers.
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