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)Required In the midst of the raging waves, they watched her gulp the callous cunning darts. Her crumbly heart cruelly impaled; the fate that enslaves. So fondly she’d mask the marks. Her soul would ache and bleed from life’s glaives. She cried an ocean for redemption from a life perpetually stark. In desperation, the rope ends it. With stigma the chums looked in utter scorn, and nattered her solitary life she so drowned in. As a jest they’d laugh it off and know not the pain borne. Options to content would be the faster poison to kick in. The jeer and tough love, be strong. Would suicide suborn? Yet blithely a random word alienates, even with the kin. The loop finally tightens round the neck. With croc tears the mates flock to condole. “If this message would reach Mary in heaven; life lost so young—” all will strive to console. For what? She writhed in pain and longed for a haven, but scornfully, her soul you shunned like a rotten pole. Her tombstone, now a patch-spot for a raven. World’s cold shoulders soaked in her silent tears. Be chaste, fair-weather friend, lest you atone. Religion and priests you’ve scorned, while the vain fanes of pretense you adorn. In exalted hallow worship, you plead with Him to remold the hearts of clay to vessels of honor. Yet in your hearts of tin you curse and vilify— you thought it was an act and left her marooned. For remaining Mary, my soul cries to you. Blinded by constant flopped success. For the media, it’d hurt not to leave a cue. Live the sacred life, gifted as a princess. And flout their nonsensical bleats of an ewe. I’ll wait on the podium for a fess. It’s never the end—you’ll ever chew the bitter pill.
Enter Author Name (Not Required)