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 The cingulate — fires — the snag — as it were — the grinder’s patient catch. A Taxonomy — of Triviality — in the kitchen lab — arrayed. In the Underworld — the Ordinary — gives way — like Salt — in a spent Broth. The Moth-chew — in the Wool-blend — the Tallow — in the Cloth. Each hangnail wound — a specimen — bared beneath the light. I have seen the storefronts fold hands — men embalmed upright. “A Micro-loss,” the Doctors humpf, already eyeing the clock. But the Blood — it knows no Magnitude. It pumps — a frantic Scale. The Vagus — a viscous Wire — frayed — the System — poised to fail. What becomes of a Small Grief — deferred. Does it crust — like a Sugared Scar. It does. Like the Pyrex you keep meaning to soak. Does it scab — a Low-grade Lesion — Thicken — like bacon-fat congealed at dawn — Cling — like mold-apricot Jam on a dulling Knife — or settle — a heavy Silt — upon the kitchen floor behind the Rubbermaid’s swollen mouth. In the grout — where mop-water darkens — by the drainboard — settling like Roach Eggs in Flour — and the day gathers what’s left. I am the Tally-maker — of the Unlived. The Self — a Pane — of trembling freezer-glass — with grease-pencil — wrapped in foil — a cold confession kept. No Eulogy — for the 10mm socket. Nor Trace — for the Tuesday in the sleet. Only the Broth-dark Corner — where the lipids skin over — and no one scrapes it clean — hunger aside. just the wild edge — of a small death — that does not — and never did.
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