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 My pen is always near at hand, waiting for my gentle grasp to give it the chance to fulfill its purpose. It seems to be anticipating being held as if we tango together in a ritual dance. When I'm fueled with the fire to write ink flows from my mind to my fingers— from pen to paper as if I were a draper of words and in each line of poetry my passion lingers in the form and fashion I chose to write each day. There is an elegance to the artistry of poetry, using fabrics as soft and diaphanous as chiffon. Romantic sonnets are sewn with silken threads that weave together, both love and desire. Haiku verses describe golden skies of dawn as if the sun awakens each morning as a phoenix rising amid orange flames of fire. There are times when I'm driven to capture and extol the glory I see when a fragile fern frond unfurls, or the tremulous steps taken by a foal, only hours old, the shapes of clouds as they billow and sweep across the expanse of blue canvas as if they are pearls. I have need to breathe life into the visions I keep ready for words I'll leave behind some may never see— as a legacy of my thoughts on life's joys and derision. Oddly, I always feel some could use editing and revision. My pen finds a way to blend my emotions, where its ink can be droplets of shed blood or tears, but never will it be choked off, replaced by AI. I'm sure it would rather be thrown into an ocean's depth before forgiving me and would rather its ink run dry. I cannot fathom attaching my name to falsify a poem I've not written on my own accord. That's an accusation I will never have need to deny. In shame, I would hang my head and ask my pen to become a sword and in reprimand, cut off my hand— a loss I could neither tolerate nor afford.
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