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 life is the subject I live. Every story I make, Every breath I take, Every line I write. They tell well-spun tales, sure. But underneath, lies the unraveling of a harsh past. Between elves gilded in gold, hides the bleeding heart of an artist. Every experience in my life shapes me. From the times I remember gripping a knife, holding my sister behind my back as I defended us from my parents' arguments. When I heard glass shatter after my dad threw it at mom. When I sat on my once friends bedside, crying softly due to what he made me do with him. When I was pulled aside at a party and beaten. In Between all of Ellomin’s regal towns, all the golden fields that stretch miles out. Lies the story of how I aimed a pistol at the back of my once friend’s head, tempted to fire. But I didn't, because at that moment, I remembered the most evil trick he pulled. He made me fall in love with him. I spent years despising people for being so vile. I became a narcissist, turned into the monster that abused me. Taught the devil what it looks like to make a man into his servant. I learned to make peace, but it took years of hardship. I remember my mother crying because she didn't have money for her insurance. I remember when my friend’s dad died. I remember pain I shouldn't feel. I remember my friend’s sister running away from home, trying to cheer him up then was all I could do. I later asked that friend what he sees when he looks at me, He said I was the soldier who got to come home. “What war did I fight?” I asked myself this so many times; I think the only answer I could come up with is the ones honey-coated in my words. “Plenty.”
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