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 Eve, once a suppressed silent marionette, immersed herself within the borders of word spinners, searching for a metaphor to entice her heart, but hid behind monikers, to evade the sinners, so Adam, whilst nurturing his garden, left it behind to compose an abundance of odes, to heal the suffering of her untamed soul and for a while her spirit adored his verses. But even in Eden, not all blossoms are sincere, as wildflowers spread delusions of grandeur, ego grows among horned thorns, where camouflaged green serpents, seduce with their silver tongues. Eve, in her innocence, manipulated by the 'hisses' of poisoned whispers, fell deeper into a pit of venom, trapped within realms where crows perch upon tombstones and in her loneliness, absorbed herself into a world of counterfeit applause, falling prey to a viper's falsehoods. The anthology of Adam was forgotten, and his muse lost among the darkness of cosmos. Without a riverbed to place his sorrows, he roamed among the mute, shielding his inkless quill, craving to see her shadow, believing when two souls connect, they become immortal poetry, so he searched for his muse, yearning to ink romantic musings, so poetic sighs could ascend, but he found no alliterations, only rhymes without substance, under midnight horizons, where temporary lanterns, waved goodbye to the moon. He did not need lessons on poetry, for he has penned many a poem, he only called for the return of his curator, so his mind did not become a museum in her absence - nor her final kiss only an artifact but all he found was the silence of poets. Upon his last poetic breath, he wrote O beloved, your hands will become tiresome, so why do you keep bleeding in misery, ignoring the embedded elegy, beating after each melancholic reflection. Now that your verses no longer carry my name, I still called for you through the dreams of sleeping poets, but even echoes no longer recognise my worth. So I remain homeless, where the ink refuses to release, and the scroll forgets it was ever touched... Today his garden still blooms, even among the wildflowers - but without his affection.
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