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 [Verse 1] It’s a whisper dressed in armor A wildfire in disguise It hides the truth in velvet While it’s staring through her eyes I speak in stars and shadows She laughs, but doesn’t see That every line I scribble down Is her, and always will be [Chorus] It’s painted in smoke, carved out of rain Wrapped in riddles so she won’t guess my name It’s not the kiss—it’s the silence I keep The hope in my heart I bury too deep It’s not the thing—it’s the echo it leaves And now I just haunt the words I don’t speak [Verse 2] She quotes my lines at parties Says, “He writes like no one can” But I’m the fool behind the curtain Just a metaphor of a man I called her “light on water” She called it “pretty prose” But I was begging her to notice In the only way I know [Chorus] It’s painted in smoke, carved out of rain Dancing on wires between pleasure and pain It’s not the kiss—it’s the tremble before The truth that I never walked through her door It’s not the thing—it’s the ache underneath It’s loving in silence, and drowning in speech [Bridge] I wrote her a love song, disguised as a poem And watched her fall for the words… Not the one who wrote them I stayed the metaphor, too scared to confess Now she’s gone—and I’m left with the rest [Final Chorus] Still painted in smoke, carved out of rain A ghost in the margins, alone with the shame It’s not the kiss—it’s the life I let go For fear she might laugh or worse—say no It’s not the thing—it’s the chance that I missed And every sweet line… is a lie with a twist [Outro – whispered, almost spoken word] So I write in riddles, I rhyme and pretend But the ink always knows where the silence begins
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