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 Cursed Pen My pen is cursed. It flows poisoned ink. Ripped pages and severed dreams. Hollow. Screaming. Into the dark. Screaming into the life of others. Because there is nothing. I am the darkness- and I am the scream. Threads of half words. Searching, looking. Attack- I am not proud. But *how* did this happen? There is life, joy. People feel it, I think. Just not when I'm around. There is frost and bitter cold. Cold doesn't pierce my skin. Fingers trace- touch- scratch, claw, bite. Tap tap. Trace. Curving, twisted, *searing* pain. What do the pages of a book feel like? And what is tea if not scalding down your throat? Caught, Inhale, then it's gone. A nice warm drink. For some. They think they're all so clever, up on their thrones. Making the world churn. Making themselves burn. At who's expense? What is the point of a fire if it is simply shine? The wood- it cracks and shivers- and then it roars. The embers dance. Heat, I think. The world is a black and white film. The world is turning inwards on its lies. The people talk, they mutter and they post. They think they know it all. Spine, bone. Connected to them all-it *should* be. Why are the leaves green if I cannot feel them? Why is laughter audacious if it doesn't come from the soul? Why does the sun warm every skin- what if the sun *seared?* Seared into cracks of being. Because what is the point of living if your corpse shows up to every family dinner?
Enter Author Name (Not Required)