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 The muddle of sleep— The grand entrance to Morpheus' legendary palace In whole or half a tablet; Easy breaths of chemicals In pretty, light-refracting bottles. I prepare myself for an escorted journey To where dreams float from their origin Like glossy bubbles through netted neurons I am the keeper of sedatives— An expert in manoeuvring through fallen thoughts Don't they know I need sleep too? I need this perceived travel through time To kiss my lips— To enter slowly with its glowing tongue And seduce my mind into a comfortable numbness— To lug it, like a limp body, Away from the sounds of rubber through rain Onto a restful shore. Yes, I do vie For my senses to trip, drunkenly, Over one and other Like a vague rolling wave in cloudy space. It is actually a religion Or maybe I'm confusing it with religious consumption— Swallowing rotund solidity Like a whore swallows fluidity. This is not ecstasy This is prescribed tranquility, so it's OK. Okay, and infinitely sweeter, Because it does not put me in a hot air balloon With a finite fire. I don't ever need to descend; Just open my eyes to the sun through my blinds Society is dancing on my back Across my stomach Trying to expel the demon inside me. I love these molecular robots; They drift with a purpose and close the dock Where insomnia frequents. Afternoon shakes off grogginess, The invisible lotus leaf Stamped on my brow, And pulls me up the conscious ladder. I don't want to be here. Circles of slumber—those precious pills Are always as good as I want them to be— As I beg them to be— As I need them to be.
Enter Author Name (Not Required)