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 In a long-forgotten time, when the sky stretched like an endless canvas of dreams, Poets were magicians, weaving incantations with words, more powerful than swords or crowns, More eternal than the whispers of fallen gods, lost in the abyss of oblivion. I remember, or perhaps it’s the memory of the wind, its whispers bringing buried memories, They stood on green hills, under the violet sky, their voices echoing through the cosmos, Each word was a spell, each rhyme a thread of light, In an infinite tapestry, woven with dreams and unspoken desires, A blue thread for sorrow, a red thread for longing, a white thread for hope, Oh, how I remember, though it was before I was born, Or perhaps I was there, a speck of dust in a corner of the universe, Watching as the poets rose, soaring above the gods, And their words becoming stars, guiding lights for lost souls. Princesses from tales wept at their verses, Warriors laid down their arms, conquered by the pure magic of poetry, And even the gods, in their cold heights, halted, Listening to the songs that echoed from the heart of the earth. But time, that ruthless thief, stole the power of the poets, And the gods laughed, and the warriors forgot, But in the depths of shadows, beneath stars that never ceased to shine, The soul of the poets remained, waiting, dreaming, whispering. And now, in the deep night, when the moon weeps silver tears, I feel the magic returning, how the words come alive, How the verses rise again, like an ancient, yet eternal flame, And the poets, those soul magicians, will be powerful once more.
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