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 I dream in the golden glow of a sakura orchid nestled between blooming browns~ as saffron streaks of sunsets spill syllables of l o v e and trust, scented with sugared crystals, emitting musical verses to calm the inner child~ healing in silence dusted with pastels of p e a c e. But when the fragrance of summer wanes, leaving a heavy horizon glistening with grieving galaxies, remember, I am an aching poem kissed by the garnet green, refusing to follow melted moonbeams, merged with moving monsoons, and yesterday’s fickle footprints, that remain, soaked in rain and tears, like pixelated promises to the cracked cosmos, lost within sand petals, as nightingales croon of strife and life, of cold summers and fleeting colors. So tonight, I’ll carve my own b l i s s from the haze of violet gratitude~ engrossed in trembling ink, allowing another month to fade into the ether, as memories blossom in blue-black, staining champagne chalices with smoke and salt while somewhere between fireworks filling up twilight skies, rippling with mystic topaz kissing the fluorescent stars sparking across midnight shorelines, I found sequins of h o p e amidst the unattained closure to the rising of an inescapable end. This is the voice of a thistle reluctant to compromise and comprehend the sound of ticking thunder, for I am the eucalyptus elixir to an alchemist’s waterfall, weaving odes to the eclipsed time that sleeps in the cusp of liquified lilacs crawling through serpentine circles… as I have found a rhyme to glamorize every forsaken line, letting go of bleached pages that have no spirit of resilience, and chapters with frosted names that have no space for s o l a c e . . .
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