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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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For my parents, I am the son who carries their prayers on his shoulders like wings of light, in a silent dance of stars gathering to build a universe worthy of their love. They say they're lucky to have me, but I'm just an echo of the love I was bathed in. For my younger brother, I am the loudest storm and the gentlest shelter, the one who shouts first, but then applauds the loudest when he celebrates his victories. For neighbors, I'm the mysterious man in ceremonial clothes, even when taking out the trash, an enigmatic passerby, a spirit in motion, a secret ritual on quiet streets. For the birds of the sky, I am the giant who speaks to them like lifelong friends, as if they carried in their beaks tales of old, whispers of wind and time. For stray dogs, I'm the one who sees them but pretends not to notice, with a fearful heart, for each growl or wagging tail is an unknown secret. Yet I pretend to be calm, as if between us there was an understanding of silences and glances. For friends, I am the man who seems easily influenced, but deep inside I carry an ocean of confidence, where sarcasm sinks without echo. For office colleagues, I'm the creator of smiles and jokes, the office alchemist, turning boring papers into subtle comedies, a master of playful words. For my boss, I am the tireless machine burning quiet fuel, pretending the last raise was enough, but knowing the sky is the limit of desires. For my wounds, I am the one who seems to have forgotten their names, but they remember, singing to me from the dark corners of my mind, a song of memories and lessons. For my heart, I am the one it fears will stop speaking its name, a traveler on unknown paths, where love is the guiding star that never sets. For strangers on trains, on sidewalks, in chance glances, I am a passing enigma, an unspoken question, a mystery never to be deciphered. For children in the park, I'm the man who smiles for no reason, making faces like a magician of happiness, disappearing before anyone notices. For old photographs, I am the boy who didn't know how much he would carry on his shoulders, yet chose to add a few more dreams, building castles from hopes. For the mirror, I am the one who laughs too quickly and looks too long, seeking an untold story among the cracks of time and reflection. For the night, I am the man who rarely sleeps, talking to the ceiling like an old confidant, sharing secrets and desires, like a falling star carrying them far away. For my child, I am the giant hands he clings to with trust, the chest he falls asleep on, the face he doesn't know he'll always carry in his heart. For his mother, I am the tired man who still makes her laugh, the one who forgets names and dates, but will never forget the love that binds us. For myself, I am the man who will always try to surpass himself, to reinvent, to heal, to be reborn from his own ashes, to rediscover himself. And perhaps there's more to this story, more realms to discover, I'm the man who forgets birthdays, but remembers how someone made him feel, the one who walks with downcast eyes and a steady heart, always seeking truth. For those reading these lines, I don't know who I should be to keep your smile, but I'm sure that if you tell me, I'll try to be the best.

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For my parents, I am the son who carries their prayers on his shoulders like wings of light

For my parents, I am the son who carries their prayers on his shoulders like wings of light, in a silent dance of stars gathering to build a universe worthy of their love. They say they're lucky to have me, but I'm just an echo of the love I was bathed in. For my younger brother, I am the loudest storm and the gentlest shelter, the one who shouts first, but then applauds the loudest when he celebrates his victories. For neighbors, I'm the mysterious man in ceremonial clothes, even when taking out the trash, an enigmatic passerby, a spirit in motion, a secret ritual on quiet streets. For the birds of the sky, I am the giant who speaks to them like lifelong friends, as if they carried in their beaks tales of old, whispers of wind and time. For stray dogs, I'm the one who sees them but pretends not to notice, with a fearful heart, for each growl or wagging tail is an unknown secret. Yet I pretend to be calm, as if between us there was an understanding of silences and glances. For friends, I am the man who seems easily influenced, but deep inside I carry an ocean of confidence, where sarcasm sinks without echo. For office colleagues, I'm the creator of smiles and jokes, the office alchemist, turning boring papers into subtle comedies, a master of playful words. For my boss, I am the tireless machine burning quiet fuel, pretending the last raise was enough, but knowing the sky is the limit of desires. For my wounds, I am the one who seems to have forgotten their names, but they remember, singing to me from the dark corners of my mind, a song of memories and lessons. For my heart, I am the one it fears will stop speaking its name, a traveler on unknown paths, where love is the guiding star that never sets. For strangers on trains, on sidewalks, in chance glances, I am a passing enigma, an unspoken question, a mystery never to be deciphered. For children in the park, I'm the man who smiles for no reason, making faces like a magician of happiness, disappearing before anyone notices. For old photographs, I am the boy who didn't know how much he would carry on his shoulders, yet chose to add a few more dreams, building castles from hopes. For the mirror, I am the one who laughs too quickly and looks too long, seeking an untold story among the cracks of time and reflection. For the night, I am the man who rarely sleeps, talking to the ceiling like an old confidant, sharing secrets and desires, like a falling star carrying them far away. For my child, I am the giant hands he clings to with trust, the chest he falls asleep on, the face he doesn't know he'll always carry in his heart. For his mother, I am the tired man who still makes her laugh, the one who forgets names and dates, but will never forget the love that binds us. For myself, I am the man who will always try to surpass himself, to reinvent, to heal, to be reborn from his own ashes, to rediscover himself. And perhaps there's more to this story, more realms to discover, I'm the man who forgets birthdays, but remembers how someone made him feel, the one who walks with downcast eyes and a steady heart, always seeking truth. For those reading these lines, I don't know who I should be to keep your smile, but I'm sure that if you tell me, I'll try to be the best.

Book: Reflection on the Important Things