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 “Tessellate” on the surface it’s easy to see we tessellate inadvertent decorative ostentatious flirtatious lives taking risks with the other sides planned strategic functional quantity rich quality lacking Human our words our ways opposites like magnets attract, it all fits we think it doesn’t, yet from the beginning of time it has been like this adam and eve right and wrong black and white scales, like severed lizard tails grow and overtake – the sweet taste of those red apples thin skin cuts deep, yet, like a poet, we keep imagining our large and small stories, inside us the music of life keeps beating like a dirge drum the distant beat nearing, closing in, a promised requiem; opposites some of us give in, rocks in pockets we dive full throttle in some of us, rise from the great depths we never give in underneath the weight of scales, a little light slides in our lives morph to change the inescapable the karmic repeat; like music scales we sync together like a symphony humming reptilian in our circadian dreams our tales rattling like puzzle pieces, flight or fight again is setting in upon us, we’re bit, the poison takes, we are overcome in our words and deeds we succumb, to some Milkwood good gentle night some find a way to right it we write new prescriptions for antidotes, like a drug we take it all in the meaning of “It” all we are all pre-determined we are arranged into place to meet the already unknown in each the other; in each the other we want that - that, which we do not possess - it’s a catch-22; mere unforseen adjustments, the primary puppet-master considers us secondary the peacock tails, like fables, are regrown; without gaps? oh there are gaps you state, clear cut that suck you back in like a black hole it’s a necessary sin, the transfiguring - but in the grand review, still everything fits, perfectly and absurd the universe hears everything and it responds gaps, or no gaps and swallows us all back in holy unwhole like we are two dimensional nothings openings and closings like origami puzzles dancing exploding and imploding shredding confetti, a marriage of sorts something to chew on, and spit out, papier-mâché, we are all looking for ourselves - each piece of us is found in the opposite of ourselves puzzle the majority, to be arranged neatly back into place like a torn photograph with different people matrixed in time and place - not that simple; hidden in the abstract we are priceless bent works of art unable to be forged to exist forever man-made in our counterfeit lives - there is still some time - we are still in kindegarten, we can see patterns forming through the old-soul eyes of a child that take us away from the norm, the expected maturity the constraining boundaries; we are part of a great myth that finds amusement and succour in our existence, it is ever-watching our fragile selves holding the signed contracts somewhere imprinted deep within we are consistent in our openings and foldings breathing out and in breathing out and in breathing in and out ... just as in a game of cards the origami of our many sided vessels clearly seen in a brief moment for what we truly are, our days are each numbered we are all each numbered, eventually the roulette wheel stops on past tense, read, Black Jack 21 we fold, we cave in our souls turn our face upwards to the universe of all things It hears everything, all seeing I that It is and It throws Its bowling balls and we, its pins, stand sentry patient and impatient collectables watching others trying to learn from their experience waiting our turn, some nervous some begging to be scooped up, ushered in, and yet, on grand review one piercing truth - the World never stops for us; on another level, the World’s heart beat escalates The World continues to spin Candide Diderot. ‘25 inque tuo sedisti, Sisyphe, saxo "and you sat, Sisyphus, on your rock" "Do not go gentle into that good night. Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light." (Excerpt: "Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night"/Dylan Thomas)
Enter Author Name (Not Required)