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 “as we passed her she did wilt which caused in us sense of guilt since our stance perhaps did cause to put her heart’s joy on pause though we’re gentle, not hostile we diminished her soul’s smile since our aura as she viewed scent of love did not exude” Unseeking Seeker Neon lights buzz to the hum of bustling cityscapes. Yellow cabs blend into an intolerable requiem of honking horns, whilst the sun beats down unbearably on names lost in the fold. Julia feels the despondency start to gnaw into the membranes of her brain, like termites devouring a rotting piece of pine. Long before the dampness of decay settled into her marrow, she had aspirations— but they have long since vanished, like a late spring snow. Walking with her eyes glued to littered concrete, she shuffles between the blur of muffled voices, like a phantom hiding amongst the shadows. Flashbacks render within the faces of the faceless. The scent of gasoline and exhaust clings to the air as a moonless expanse materializes. Her soul is transported back, pleading for salvation in gasping whimpers. A chance encounter—an accidental bump of his shoulder. Phone shattered, she became the target of his wrath. Vile words hurled, trajectory: her soul. Physical manifestations of the emotional shrapnel take shape— a blow to the face, lip splits, warm blood tickles down. Passersby stare, then quickly scurry away, too scared—or maybe selfish—to intervene. Or could it be they've become too jaded? Surely they meant no harm, yet the scars of their unintentional apathy are forever etched beneath Julia's skin.
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