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.
Enter Title (Not Required)
Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required My granddaughter asks what music is—not how it works but what it is and I realize I don't know. I tell her what I've learned Plato says it's the cosmos tuning itself Aristotle teaches it's virtue in training Schopenhauer explains it's the will made audible Nietzsche proclaims it's the reason we endure Adorno touts it's the last room the market hasn't bought Einstein calculates it's what we do when equations fail us But the truth? Music is my mother crying Music is my uncle's calloused fingers Music is the subway violinist's beautiful mistake Music is my wife pirouetting on the grit of dirty floors Music is the kid beatboxing in the tunnel Music is Einstein scraping Mozart across catgut Music is the thing we make when we can't speak and the thing we make when speech isn't enough the thing we make when we need to remember we're animals with opposable thumbs and auditory cortexes and this strange compulsion to score sound into patterns that hurt us and heal us and make us want to live another day So I tell my granddaughter: music is the question you just asked. The wanting-to-know The orchestra isn't in the concert hall it's in your chest when the song moves through diminished chords to major resolution something lifts. It's in the breath before the downbeat. It's in the silence after the final note when we're listening, waiting, still hoping there might be one more measure And there is. There always is. The song doesn't end we just stop hearing it
Enter Author Name (Not Required)