Greeting Card Maker | Poem Art Generator

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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www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry
Winter’s Crown
The frost bites sharply at my boots, a quiet thief stealing warmth. The world hums in silver tones, its breath a shiver brushing my crimson cheeks. Each step cracks the silence, a fragile defiance in a realm that stills itself before the year’s end. Trees wear crystalline armour, their branches mimicking brittle fingers, whilst clutching at the pale, indifferent sky. The earth beneath me trembles, thin as a pane of glass, each foot step a gamble, each crack a chime of survival in this frozen scene. My breath unfurls, ghostlike and restless, carrying the weight of months undone - Regrets that sting, hopes like fragile snowflakes, unique, imperfectly crafted, melting too soon. The air tastes sharp, like memory laced with frost, but I swallow it whole. The world is a frostbitten canvas, its hues drained by the cold’s steady hand, edges blurred by winter’s sigh. Yet within the ache, there is a strange beauty: The way the chill settles deep, an unrelenting grasp you learn to crave. And so, I walk on, my thoughts trailing behind like naughty shadows. Each step marking time as the frost whispers its secrets. This is the year’s final breath, its splintered waltz, dancing on the edge of stillness. And I wear it like a crown - each shard of ice a fragment of truth, sharp and cold, etched into me.
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things