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 In a crumpled shirt (so casual for a god) Bow tucked loosely under an arm still jittery from battle He balanced himself on a flat boat painted black. Each wave as I kneel closer a migrant flag A tongue with syllables no script can catch. The many births you have passed through, try to remember them as I do mine Memory is all you have. Still, how much can you bear on your back? You’ve lost one language, gained another, lost a third. There’s nothing you’ll inherit, neither per stirpes nor per capita No plot by the riverbank in your father’s village of Kozencheri Or by the burning ghat in Varanasi. All you have is a writing hand smeared with ink and little bits of paper Swirling in a violent wind. I am a blue-black child cheeks swollen with a butter ball I stole from mama’s kitchen Stones and sky and stars melt in my mouth Wooden spoon in hand she chased me Round and round the tamarind tree. I am musk in the wings of the koel which nests in that tree?— You heard its cry in the jolting bus from Santa Monica to Malibu After the Ferris wheel, the lovers with their wind slashed hair Toxic foam on the drifts of the ocean Come the dry cactus lands The child who crosses the border water bottle in hand Fallen asleep in the aisle where backpacks and sodden baskets are stashed. Out of her soiled pink skirt whirl these blood-scratched skies And all the singing rifts of story.
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