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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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Once in a wonder land I trekked – Through the chaos and the wreck. The earth was clothed in a misty layer – Sown by the heavens’ unanswered prayers. Cold hard steel, some sort of construction site – The somber setting ignited my being with fright. In this ebony that was once so white – I slept to a hymn (now a dirge,) every night. I shuddered; in attempt to shake off the opaque oppression – Born from the theft of all of my precious possessions. That left me Mute, Blind, Deaf, (predominated by regression,) – Smashed up and shattered into debris of dank Depression. Perhaps the sun will shine and goad my valves to thaw – Perhaps I shall speak my mind, and unclench my jaw. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll learn to grow razor claws – To rip out and shred up my every flaw. But it is I who drew this fiasco, who made this mess – Who sold her soul, hurt and loved, but never confessed, Who gave without return, her all, and nothing less – A fool and compassion’s slave I am, one would guess. Fanning wheat in a field of revulsion, (of my own making) – Bestowed the unworthy, gave and gave more, without taking. I grudged and judged, oblivious that I was simply mistaking – Growing strong, (for a coward whose heart is breaking.) In the wonder land once so placid, I descried something eerie – Cacophonous odd footsteps, fatigue and weary. “It ought to be the winds rustle,” my cerebration’s theory – No living soul dare walk outside, (in a wonder land so dreary.) But the preternatural noise hissed, and hissed more – Its echoing murmurs and whispers I could not ignore. Aghast, I spotted a movement in the sky, (a bird that soared) – Curiosity held my hand, this bird's destination I shall explore. I jumped, sprung, ran and raced so free – Until I felt my pulse beating in my feeble knees. There ought to be a cause for this bird to flee – To a wonder land so dreary, this very night, above me. After an endless chase, it perched on the cold ground – I caged my breath, my helpless heart began to pound. It’s a raven, my bloodshot and teary eyes had found – For its glance pierced my soul (and its stare was profound.) My heels clicked on the floor that was rock-hard – Looking around, I found myself in a grave yard. I carefully walked into the cemetery, (left without a guard,) – Into the stack of buried souls, beaten and scarred.

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True Poets' Punishment (Part 1)

Once in a wonder land I trekked – Through the chaos and the wreck. The earth was clothed in a misty layer – Sown by the heavens’ unanswered prayers. Cold hard steel, some sort of construction site – The somber setting ignited my being with fright. In this ebony that was once so white – I slept to a hymn (now a dirge,) every night. I shuddered; in attempt to shake off the opaque oppression – Born from the theft of all of my precious possessions. That left me Mute, Blind, Deaf, (predominated by regression,) – Smashed up and shattered into debris of dank Depression. Perhaps the sun will shine and goad my valves to thaw – Perhaps I shall speak my mind, and unclench my jaw. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll learn to grow razor claws – To rip out and shred up my every flaw. But it is I who drew this fiasco, who made this mess – Who sold her soul, hurt and loved, but never confessed, Who gave without return, her all, and nothing less – A fool and compassion’s slave I am, one would guess. Fanning wheat in a field of revulsion, (of my own making) – Bestowed the unworthy, gave and gave more, without taking. I grudged and judged, oblivious that I was simply mistaking – Growing strong, (for a coward whose heart is breaking.) In the wonder land once so placid, I descried something eerie – Cacophonous odd footsteps, fatigue and weary. “It ought to be the winds rustle,” my cerebration’s theory – No living soul dare walk outside, (in a wonder land so dreary.) But the preternatural noise hissed, and hissed more – Its echoing murmurs and whispers I could not ignore. Aghast, I spotted a movement in the sky, (a bird that soared) – Curiosity held my hand, this bird's destination I shall explore. I jumped, sprung, ran and raced so free – Until I felt my pulse beating in my feeble knees. There ought to be a cause for this bird to flee – To a wonder land so dreary, this very night, above me. After an endless chase, it perched on the cold ground – I caged my breath, my helpless heart began to pound. It’s a raven, my bloodshot and teary eyes had found – For its glance pierced my soul (and its stare was profound.) My heels clicked on the floor that was rock-hard – Looking around, I found myself in a grave yard. I carefully walked into the cemetery, (left without a guard,) – Into the stack of buried souls, beaten and scarred.