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 What am I? I don’t know. Maybe a scream searching for its name in the dark, maybe a child with scraped knees on the burning road, a man with his throat clenched by the noose of stars, when the church bells shatters Beneath the hammer of silence. Or perhaps I’m just a mute with no one left to scream to. I write these poems not to be read by some fool in branded glasses, but so I won’t dissolve into noise. So I won’t get lost in a foreign language that demands fiscal prayers, not mourning. Pain? I hold it like a cigarette extinguished in my palm. It burns,but at least, I know I’m still alive, I’m still burning in the vice of shadows. Today’s poet doesn’t ask for glory. No stage, applause or crown Just a phone on silent mode and a corner of a wall where I carve verses uncensored by hunger, where I can pray without being asked for coins in the tray when going to church. Here I write. Here I cry. No one charges me taxes. Here I scream, and no traffic light hears me. Poetry no longer changes the world. Poetry is me, when I can’t bear to be myself anymore. If tomorrow the sky deletes me from its contacts, leave me a corner of paper, so I can return if I ever feel like it. Or maybe I’ll remain just an unopened notification, a verse you never had the chance to read. I’m still learning to be calm, like a simmering light that still bites into the shadows. And if I never learned to be light, only a rag burning in a forgotten lamp at night, forgive me, O sky. But I did burn. And I didn’t die without leaving a sign.
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