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 The decades crawled through ruin till the Year of Thirty-Four, And Lysander was a hermit, but a hermit blind no more. Through short-wave bursts that flickered out across the barren space, And weary runners dodging drones to find his hiding place, He reached four other visionaries dreaming in the black: A rogue technician in the frost, a poet on the rack, Two scientists who kept the flame against the winter storm— They swore to weave a single thread to keep the spirit warm. It was a bitter winter night, the ash was falling thick, It smothered out the surface wind and made the sensors sick. Lysander sat within a chair of salvaged medical steel, The living halo of the moss beginning now to feel Beneath his scalp, into his skin, a soft, organic crown, The microscopic tendrils pushing gently, deeply down. Across the seas, in four dark holes, the others did the same, And waited for the sudden spark to set the night aflame. He threw the primary breaker switch, the cables groaned with heat, The vault’s geothermal heart began to pulse and beat. He did not hear a thunderclap, he did not see a flare, He only felt a sudden rip, a tearing of the air. The silence of a generation snapped across the world, As into every separate mind the universe was hurled. The lonely soul no longer screamed against a silent shore; It broke through every bunker wall and shattered every door. Lysander felt the salt-stain of a woman’s sudden grief, Three thousand miles across the waste, too heavy for belief; She mourned a child who withered from the pale radiation chill. He felt the cold, systemic dread, the sharp and freezing will Of an old engineer whose lungs were failing in the north, As life-support ran dry of air and spat its vapor forth. They had spun the neural cord—a whisper in the dark, A soft, collective sigh of peace, a fragile, holy spark.
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