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 Like warriors, I adorn scars from battles, The battles that left my soul pierced by atlatls. Every scar's a story, or so they say, But stories matter little when your zeal decays. I buried my conviction and watered the grave, As did Patroclus, I too adorned the mask of the brave. But when twilight gathered and the truth came out, I found myself rotting with demons of self-doubt. I wear broken spearheads like rosary beads, And wonder why I still suffer for all my deeds. For I believed I served the world with a heart of gold, Yet all I earned in return was a bed stiff and cold. Every scar a map to a place I'd never go, Yet toward those thoughts circle to and fro. Caught in endless transit, like a needle lost in hay, Unable to find the road so I pray that one day I find the way. As I cry, Sting, ever courteous, tells me to stay strong, Though some of the scars I bear are where its words belong. Yet even ruined temples remember forgotten gods, So I do good irrespective of applause. Yet all I receive is blame, anger, and disdain, For their comfort comes before acknowledgment of my pain. Weak and pathetic maybe I am for I lost the battle And let them puncture my soul with atlatl. For I could've been ignorant, selfish and prude But unfortunately I am not that crude Instead I chose compassion, though it left me undone, Bearing wounds of many, while mine heal none.
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