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 “Morning Star” There, a Morning Star rose in the East and reclined in the left side of my brain. I called them Morning. They called me Butterfly, pinned me to the wall like I was an example of what they thought love was like. Prisoners are us, in this state of undress. There is some pleasure in the pain of a heart in full thrust, bursting open like a dark, dark red rose. The perfume piercing all senses, intoxicating in full bloom, soft, full of dew, inviting a kiss at close quarters in their hard velvet time. Face turned upwards towards the wide smile of a burning sun, arching Morning Stars and the immolation of fiery whispers against the neck of a Van Gogh mind, the eyes fragile green stems, Monet irises swaying, flecks of ultra-violet scryed within the treasure-pools of a twin flame reflected. Gold stamens leave their trails like honeyed addictions, deliciously wicked; Ochre-yellow ribbons tied around the tall stories of a whispering Oak forest, the boundaries breaching the fire-shot hares and their blue-grey ghostgum sighs. The ancient laws of desire - distinguishing lust from love - swallow us undigested, swept under the rugs of their Gideon pages. Preying upon us, strange cardinals in their cloistered nests in such complex states of red unrest, shake the boughs, to move leaves like fingers that trace noughts and crosses over our naked hearts, sowing seeds in our breasts, sliding their weathered veins all over our minds, shattering the blanched crystalised, making the limbs of our stories flesh-borne, come alive. We kiss under fresh, poisonous holly like it’s a new year. The risks that we take for love, the road to hell is paved with good intentions – wearing fleece o’er wolf’s skin – as below, so above; The course of a full day never lets up. The Sun rises in the east, The Sun sets in the west. We burn in between. The embers of fire glow within the Moon’s luminescence, ignis et aqua arriving like a tide hushing the prescient ocean rocking the slick undertow - lux noctis aeterna sub silentio - like a clam to be opened, a pearl to be plucked from the fathomless depths of another dimension. Over and over again, small victories are given up. The shell discarded. ex tenebris lux Candide Diderot. ‘26
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