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 brush too needs a cubist eye, hands that inscribe the architecture of aftergrowth’s return to collapse and crawl ~ into the crying rivers of chaotic colors where the canvas reflects the cruelty of craving the tortured tremors of thirsting, for love did not know how to lull the lament of childhood wounds she suppressed in solitary silence, while the claustrophobic ghosts in the murky depths of her mind keep screaming for an eloquent release, tracing tumultuous teal, tearing at the greying grief, confined in corpse cloudscapes ~ like embers of equinox emanating from the deep dull darkness of her splitting sight, a crippled conscience in need of a cosmic cure, while the artist perceives not her angst, but only her magnetic madness, distilled through sharp, shapeshifting shades… She was an enigmatic alteration, ~ picturesque paradox ~ of a melancholic mannequin, composed in clamorous calmness, yet no breeze could read her unwritten truth. She fears intimacy, imprisoned in black-and-white blurs, the imprints of commitment, for her nails painted in envious acrylic resemble her jaded heart, roaring with jealousy, afraid of being abandoned, as romance is the demise of tranquility. No pill, no pigment can purify the poison that lurks within her pining veins, paining in vain… O demented diamonds of drowsy dusk, must dialects define what ebbs and flows between the lines, like phantoms drifting through cloudless lamplight? The psychological turbulence no fingers could frame ~ and no flame could fathom, as every emotion ~ is a geometric fracture, painted as the funeral of a fragranced future...
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