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 sky is the color of a bruised machine, A heavy, lidless eye of ashen stone. It has been forty years since hills were green, Or since the rain washed the graphite soot alone. We live in the ribs of cities, hollowed out, Sifting the silt for a shimmer of glass or tin, In a world that forgot what a seed was all about, Where the earth is a drum, stretched tight and thin. I climbed the ridge where the concrete spine Of the old interstate snaps and meets the sky. I was looking for copper, or a rusted sign, Anything the scavengers had passed by. But there, in a crack where the asphalt bled, In a pocket of dirt that the wind had missed, A defiance of color, a startling red, A throat of velvet that the sun had kissed. I fell to my knees, and the world went still— The groan of the turbines, the whistle of thirst— Everything vanished from the brow of the hill, Except for this miracle, blessed and cursed. It was a small thing, no larger than a coin, With a stem like a needle, translucent and frail, A splash of soft blood on a landscape of shale. I reached out a finger, then pulled it back fast, Terrified my shadow would wither the bloom. How had it lingered? How was it the last? A solitary candle in a planet-sized room. Did it dream of the meadows? Of the heavy-set bees? Or was it a stranger to the ghosts of the trees, An isolated, beautiful, purposeless thing? I looked to the horizon
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