Greeting Card Maker | Poem Art Generator

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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www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry
Overlooked Things
Beneath the piano, a dust ball rehearses eternity. It gathers what time discards~ the wool of vanished winters, pollen from orchards no longer blooming, one white hair from the head of a woman who has forgotten the song she once sang while washing dishes. Thread by thread, it constructs its small republic of neglect. The blue fiber from a child's mitten lies beside ash from a birthday candle. A fragment of feather touches the husk of a seed carried indoors on a boot sole years ago. Nothing enters by design. The dust ball accepts all arrivals, offering citizenship equally to the celebrated and the overlooked. A scrap of ribbon. A grain of soil. The curled filament from a lamp long shattered. Under magnification, its tangled construction resembles aerial photographs of rivers branching through continents, or the dark filaments between galaxies. I suspect the universe favors this method~ gathering, combining, keeping. Meanwhile the piano above it waits in silence. No hand touches the keys. Yet the dust ball continues its patient composition, assembling notes of absence, measures of departure, a symphony written in particles. Perhaps every house creates one secret historian. Not in attics. Not in albums. But beneath chairs, under beds, behind bookcases, where unnoticed years settle into a sphere. When sunlight finds it, the dust ball briefly kindles. Each mote shines with borrowed radiance. Then the light shifts, returning to is quiet labor, collecting the shed signatures of ordinary existence, rehearsing eternity one particle at a time.
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