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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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I linger, to pause for a while, between the ladder rungs of what's been done below, and what is yet to become above. Below me stretches a dizzying array of tiers. Each step is a relic of a decision, I've made to take the next rung up or down— Some firm, some sure, some splintered, and weathered. Each step was risky, presuming the footing was safe and there were no snakes. How readily and willingly I gave my trust to old wooden rungs— eroded, grooved, and split by time. How quickly I mistook, their quiver and shake when stepped upon, for the uncertain pulse of my own anticipation, believing it was a promise of firmness yet to come. Above, clouds veil the climb, with no shape to follow, no handholds there are certain. They're shrouded in the thick blur of not knowing. The next rung may be the last, and beyond it — where does the path lead? Behind me, the descent rungs, are slippery with snaky mist, hard to make out, when suspended like this. Still, my hand thrusts upwards through the mist, fingers closing on whatever hides there— a beam, a rope, a door, a ledge, a serpent, or only empty air. Will it bear me? How can I say? I push up quivering on the rung beneath, letting the weight of what has been, thrust me up to what can become. Ladders are great for self-reflection.

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Ladder Sways in So Many Ways

I linger, to pause for a while, between the ladder rungs of what's been done below, and what is yet to become above. Below me stretches a dizzying array of tiers. Each step is a relic of a decision, I've made to take the next rung up or down— Some firm, some sure, some splintered, and weathered. Each step was risky, presuming the footing was safe and there were no snakes. How readily and willingly I gave my trust to old wooden rungs— eroded, grooved, and split by time. How quickly I mistook, their quiver and shake when stepped upon, for the uncertain pulse of my own anticipation, believing it was a promise of firmness yet to come. Above, clouds veil the climb, with no shape to follow, no handholds there are certain. They're shrouded in the thick blur of not knowing. The next rung may be the last, and beyond it — where does the path lead? Behind me, the descent rungs, are slippery with snaky mist, hard to make out, when suspended like this. Still, my hand thrusts upwards through the mist, fingers closing on whatever hides there— a beam, a rope, a door, a ledge, a serpent, or only empty air. Will it bear me? How can I say? I push up quivering on the rung beneath, letting the weight of what has been, thrust me up to what can become. Ladders are great for self-reflection.