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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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Sometimes I wake, at least believing I have, but find that I'm wandering about, perhaps dreaming while walking in a mist, through empty halls where moonlight doesn't stream through windows on walls. I'm alone in lush jungles of canopied forests, and bathing in pools behind waterfalls. It's a strange realm of a juxtaposing existence where my words and thoughts mingle, trying to blend like slow-running river currents, flowing into roiling tides of ocean waves. It's the place where lost love lingers and grief echoes its mourning call trying in vain to heal in silence and sobs are stifled throes of sorrow as their cries are only heard by me as they ricochet through my mind's tunnels. In my poetry these corridors exist— these hollow spaces and empty places I create in journeys between sadness and joy, hope and heartbreak, life and death and where with each breath I take holds gasping ghosts of lost loves as they hover, unheard but felt in the ruins of what once was a lamplit rendezvous lieu, now withered and cold, a cavern of darkness. There's stark sadness some would label madness found in dreams that leave my body and soul aching and craving to come awake. Whether I wander in a blossoming garden in these reveries, remembering candlelight nights of passionate kisses within love's arms— they're only a worn tapestry of broken threads from the many textured fabrics of my life. Some became tangled and some unraveled, others frayed and were pulled apart that had to be stitched in the wounded places with a patchwork of bloodied cloths to cover the scars that form crossroads across my heart. More often the dreams that find me in slumber now take me to happier places where smiling faces surround me and ease the pains I've borne. Though time in those spaces flows too quickly, like grains of hourglass sands sifting and shifting like dunes formed by errant Zepher winds. Now, as I walk in the warmth of sunlight's rays, erased are the hovering ghostly shadows. From those ruins where life was lived, I'm drifting past the perished caverns from my yesteryears.

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Tapestry of Broken Threads

Sometimes I wake, at least believing I have, but find that I'm wandering about, perhaps dreaming while walking in a mist, through empty halls where moonlight doesn't stream through windows on walls. I'm alone in lush jungles of canopied forests, and bathing in pools behind waterfalls. It's a strange realm of a juxtaposing existence where my words and thoughts mingle, trying to blend like slow-running river currents, flowing into roiling tides of ocean waves. It's the place where lost love lingers and grief echoes its mourning call trying in vain to heal in silence and sobs are stifled throes of sorrow as their cries are only heard by me as they ricochet through my mind's tunnels. In my poetry these corridors exist— these hollow spaces and empty places I create in journeys between sadness and joy, hope and heartbreak, life and death and where with each breath I take holds gasping ghosts of lost loves as they hover, unheard but felt in the ruins of what once was a lamplit rendezvous lieu, now withered and cold, a cavern of darkness. There's stark sadness some would label madness found in dreams that leave my body and soul aching and craving to come awake. Whether I wander in a blossoming garden in these reveries, remembering candlelight nights of passionate kisses within love's arms— they're only a worn tapestry of broken threads from the many textured fabrics of my life. Some became tangled and some unraveled, others frayed and were pulled apart that had to be stitched in the wounded places with a patchwork of bloodied cloths to cover the scars that form crossroads across my heart. More often the dreams that find me in slumber now take me to happier places where smiling faces surround me and ease the pains I've borne. Though time in those spaces flows too quickly, like grains of hourglass sands sifting and shifting like dunes formed by errant Zepher winds. Now, as I walk in the warmth of sunlight's rays, erased are the hovering ghostly shadows. From those ruins where life was lived, I'm drifting past the perished caverns from my yesteryears.