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 In your shadow, lady of the torn and moist light, I tear myself as wounded pilgrim in the desert of cruel grace, where the tearing sand becomes bitter, salty manna, the stone – a spring of warm blood, dripping on cracked lips, and my heart, a torn altar, howls for the eucharist, with echoes of deaf bells resounding in hollow ribs, until agony, wandering, the total loss of self, where the air smells of myrrh smoke and divine sweat. Your splendor is not a flower, but a torn falling star, with tail of green, red flames, in the cup of black night, burning and consuming me alive with smell of burnt flesh, like Moses' burning bush, where God roars cursed names, with roar of subterranean thunder in the depths of my chest, and I, lost child, scream "Love" with mouth full of ash, trembling with sweet pain that splits me into two blades, down to bare bone, blood flowing like red wine of passion. I tremble under your touch like the torn leaf in winds, divine, savage, full of smell of rain on burnt earth, joined hands know not prayer or claws driven deep, into your pulsating chest, soft as velvet wet with dew, my tears – red wine, hot on bleeding bread, with taste of holy yeast and iron, mixing ancient pains, life becomes a torn gate to the apses of heavy heaven, where the air is scorched burnt, withered flowers screaming in silence. Everything – the first time torn, everything – eternal and wounded deep, with textures of torn silk and hot tar on skin, in your thin veil, I melt into You as in fires, paradisiacal hell, with smell of sweet sulfur and rotting roses, sacred day dissolved in black night, viscous as pitch, remains as a bitten kiss on the brow of bleeding sunrise, with taste of copper and honey, echoes of heavy breathing, resounding in the void of my chest emptied of all shadow.
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