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 Twin rainbows arch across, the morning sky, two parallel arcs, hung reflected on high. One for tomorrow, one for regrets, grown old— Twice the road, to the pot of gold. One for what the years let go, One for what our hearts may know, One bow new, and one bow old, Colors are reversed, reflections in bold— Once is never enough to seal your fate, to frame your day, bent-curved, not straight. Déjà vu dancing the two-step, twice, fortune laughing, with serendipity its dice. But within which bow does the pot of gold lie in? In either bow, or at either end, where to begin? Unless contradictions can be endured, the true treasured pot of gold, lies well secured. Oh carry me where the wild lights fold. Twice the road to the pot of gold. With one bow new, and one bow old. Twice the road to the pot of gold. The second bow, dim, turns the first, inside out, showing what faith and shadows are all about. Gold may not glitter where legends are told— but when opposites marry, their fates turn to gold. They say what’s lost may yet return, when tomorrow and past in one fire burn, Yet twin truths, have a dual strong hold— and there's two roads to the pot of gold. The second bow is the B-side in undertone spun, It's night upturned in the noonday sun. Its underside chants what the first bow concealed, Hidden in mirrored arched echoes, half-revealed. Change comes layered like strawberry shortcake with cream folds laid between make and break. Two thresholds to be crossed, one unknown, one outward walked, the other inward grown. Oh carry me where the wild lights fold. Twice the road to the pot of gold. With one bow new, and one bow old. Twice the road to the pot of gold.
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