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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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As born again blossoms bloom, who am I to wilt upon the dawn of spring, as I can see morning robins gather to bless me with the melodies they sing. Their once melancholic lullaby, disappears with every drop of rain, in cloudless, bright blues skies, they have sang away winter's pain. I watch them collect fallen twigs, nimbly, creating their new nests, rebuilding something that was once broken, fighting valiantly against nature's tests. They're aware that predators lurk, so when sunset sinks at silent twilight, I wonder where do they seek shelter, so they don't become prey of the night. With philosopher eyes the mind ponders what if birds were born without both wings. How would they fly to freedom when trapped? Would we still hear the melodies a robin sings? When bewildered in the wilderness, some slither softly, lost in melancholic motions, submerging slowly in shallow streams, unable to control their erratic emotions. We are blessed with spiritual wings, but some prefer to remain within their cocoon. Unable to learn from the homecoming of birds, their authentic-self, struggles to hum in tune. In the migration of misunderstood minds, we can become lost among unknown silhouettes, like dead petals ignored by butterflies, our inflictions turn us into marionettes. Darkness will always consume our horizons, so as I arrive upon illuminations ledge, I revel in the belief my spirit will fly if my foundations crumble at the edge.

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As born again blossoms bloom, who am I to wilt upon the dawn of spring, as I can see morning robins gather to bless me with the melodies they sing. Their once melancholic lullaby, disappears with every drop of rain, in cloudless, bright blues skies, they have sang away winter's pain. I watch them collect fallen twigs, nimbly, creating their new nests, rebuilding something that was once broken, fighting valiantly against nature's tests. They're aware that predators lurk, so when sunset sinks at silent twilight, I wonder where do they seek shelter, so they don't become prey of the night. With philosopher eyes the mind ponders what if birds were born without both wings. How would they fly to freedom when trapped? Would we still hear the melodies a robin sings? When bewildered in the wilderness, some slither softly, lost in melancholic motions, submerging slowly in shallow streams, unable to control their erratic emotions. We are blessed with spiritual wings, but some prefer to remain within their cocoon. Unable to learn from the homecoming of birds, their authentic-self, struggles to hum in tune. In the migration of misunderstood minds, we can become lost among unknown silhouettes, like dead petals ignored by butterflies, our inflictions turn us into marionettes. Darkness will always consume our horizons, so as I arrive upon illuminations ledge, I revel in the belief my spirit will fly if my foundations crumble at the edge.