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 WHY I WRITE POETRY I can't leave the world in God's hands — that's my job now, I worship yes — I wander forests of legend with flowers from the Tree of Life in my hair — but trust, no — people die and that death is His will but it is my refusal, and I am a poet and I know we need more time to make our own splendid mistakes. Sea turtles live a thousand years in their slow and green waters, my words cannot become flesh — they cannot heal an open and living wound — but we could have colored rings spinning around our minds like Saturn, we could map constellations across a lover's face as if that face were the entire sky. Every child could be the Messiah because the world always needs saving, and yet God — it is such a beautiful world — but no thank you, it is not enough — no thank you for the sunrise when our eyes have already gone blind from so much dark, a blank page is the place where I list the creation I was never given at birth. A shopping list of eternity — where you are never too sick to eat fresh blueberries, where the dance never stops in the middle of its most beautiful and aching step — a blank page is a paper bird I fold and send to fly up instead of a prayer, I can't change anything — but I am a poet and if I can't trust Him I must speak. You are crucified on the hands of a clock — pull those nails out of your wounded palms, test each day like a melon at the market — press it for ripeness, for sweetness, for life — you want more — you want so much more than this beautiful and deaf world offers you — and I am throwing you a rope of words from the bottom of a blank page — hold on.
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