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 Something has fallen wordlessly and holds still on the black driveway. You find it, like a jewel, among the empty bottles and cans where the dogs toppled the garbage. You pick it up, not sure if it is stone or wood or some new plastic made to replace them both. When you raise your sunglasses to see exactly what you have you see it is only a shadow that has darkened your fingers, a black ink or oil, and your hand suddenly smells of c1assrooms when the rain pounded the windows and you shuddered thinking of the cold and the walk back to an empty house. You smell all of your childhood, the damp bed you struggled from to dress in half-light and go out into a world that never tired. Later, your hand thickened and flat slid out of a rubber glove, as you stood, your mask raised, to light a cigarette and rest while the acid tanks that were yours to dean went on bathing the arteries of broken sinks. Remember, you were afraid of the great hissing jugs. There were stories of burnings, of flesh shredded to lace. On other nights men spoke of rats as big as dogs. Women spoke of men who trapped them in corners. Always there was grease that hid the faces of worn faucets, grease that had to be eaten one finger-print at a time, there was oil, paint, blood, your own blood sliding across your nose and running over your lips with that bright, certain taste that was neither earth or air, and there was air, the darkest element of all, falling all night into the bruised river you slept beside, falling into the glass of water you filled two times for breakfast and the eyes you turned upward to see what time it was. Air that stained everything with its millions of small deaths, that turned all five fingers to grease or black ink or ashes.
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