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 If grief is a ghostwriter, why is my ink still bleeding, why is poetry the elixir ~ against trust weaponized? O hunter’s moon, I am not the hunted huntress. I am the rose armor adorned with wine-magic wishes ~ a funeral leaf ~ still breathing, no longer nailed to the copper casket of scarlet-scarred season, refusing to remember the thorn-hearted scent within forlorn flowers, ruthlessly ravaged, for my withered essence was never the weakness draped in hostile dews of his deceitful dusk, nor am I the woman that cowardly wore the widowed cold needles of a narcissistic nightshade. He named it love ~ he promised forever. I know now what it was: fangs of fire, control camouflaged as commitment christened, abuse termed as deep affection. I tasted the malicious marks of his deadly devotion, fingerprints of wrath pressed into the pulse of petals, my skin scorching with fixated fault lines disguised as dedication, contoured and concealed with colors of misplaced loyalty… I am not what his tongue cursed ~ the devil’s belladonna, but the mistress of hushed violence, silenced and stone-eyed, turning trauma into tulips of troubled twilight. I forgive and dream amidst the dusted dahlias, designing destiny through ashes and truth of beautiful brutality ~ the torture that confused the charisma of a self-loathing psyche, while pansies pine with death, screaming sweet-smelling cruelty, like the healing hues of hibiscus floating in the air, free from Lucifer’s sun that burned the roots of a garden bleeding garnet gravel ~ forsaking the sadistic pollens that smothered my soul’s blooms. I survived ~ I thrived ~ I live to sow seeds of lilies and light, and I w a n e ~ a divorcee of darkness, an angel without crippled wings...
Enter Author Name (Not Required)