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.
Enter Title (Not Required)
Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Sometimes the Cities Sometimes cities split apart in their sleep like amoebas dreaming beneath a wax moon, some taking the shape of a glass lung, others of a blind ship, while two wingless angels, stretched out on the ashes of spent time, plot with a child's tools and spells forgotten by old witches impossible cathedrals, towers grown from the bones of long-dead fish. On the endless shore of night the fangs of a smoke-wolf glint, ready to bite the moon, a herd of pregnant shadows grazes among rocks salty as a tear, small shells hang from phosphorescent seaweed, like wedding rings lost by the drowned, and the herd of shadows carries in its womb another herd, lilac as an old bruise, overturned, yet still thirsting for liquid pastures, icy pastures, pastures of sky. Waterfalls of grass tumble into the black ocean like locks of hair torn from the world's temple, magnificent remedies for the fever that keeps our flesh awake in the deepest sleep, and the virus, patient as a monk forgotten at the monastery gate, waits for the moment to enter the shadowed, soft intestine of the city, elastic as an old prayer. Beneath brotherly chandeliers, among quartz mirrors frozen in their own light, the meanders blackened by the sawdust of water sing their endless litany, there where day and night a giant drum of double monkey-hide keeps pounding, and its echo spreads through the veins like a root that can't find its ground. While the two wingless angels, stretched out on the ashes of spent time, plot, with tools of their own, the terrible duel of eternal rent, after which the cities will split apart again in their sleep, like dreaming amoebas, taking shapes that no one, ever, could have imagined.
Enter Author Name (Not Required)