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 am a dare-dreamer, a mask wearer a soul bare-r (not always my own); a word-weaver. I pull thoughts like strings. Strings of cobwebs, cirrus, frayed dungarees, threadbare memories. I warp and weft strings of thoughts into poems. Sometimes I get caught in knots— I cut myself loose of those naughty strings. I hold kite strings. Oh and rainbows strings. They connect my soles to realms of my soul. At times, I lose sight of kites in the gale. Was I irresponsible with responsibility for strings? I think, “thoughts”, should get lost in wind and clouds to find the eye-of-the-storm—where I rescue kites and make a poetry page my stage and arena. I twine strings into heavyweight rope. Fasten it to four corners of a contest page. I enter, incognito, with Apollo imagery and Dionysus metaphor; a masked prize-fighter filled with creative angst. I grin for wins in poesy masquerade parades. When I fail, strings break off of my drama mask. Revealed but unrecognized, am I a fractured rainbow? My inner balcony critic reprimands: “sunlight through raindrops must be flawless to create flawless strings of prismatic color”! Alas, lack of refraction leaves words white; non-prismatic. I restring tragedy mask; ego sphere of a versateer. I create poetry because I love to pluck things; harp strings and heartstrings… If I no longer make readers cry, will pen cred be lost? Don’t think I won’t pluck nightshade petals, fly’s wings and cello strings to make you feel my tormentia! I’ll quiver lips of lost-in-love verse. Coax your soul to sip pale ale of sorrow, as strawberry scent scalds your skin. I’m not unhappy to gratify your senses. I loop maverick string, whirl it and throw— lasso a funhouse mirror; rein it in. Imagination stilt-dances in looney-glass gaze. I use muse strings to hang mirrors and ask; who’s the puppeteer and who’s the puppet— poet or reader?
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