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
A Weed In a Well Kept Garden
There, my eyes fixed on the yellow paving stone. Amongst a slightly tangled dandelion leaf is a little purple demon staring back at me. Just stood casually as the suns rays continue to bounce vividly off the heated ground. I notice those pointed eyes all sharp and looking frightened, that I might disrupt his peaceful unity with the warm breeze. I won't, but I'll remain enchanted by such presence. His gold earrings reflect many colours of the passing day, as they appear all the way up those elongated ears. A tiny ruby shines from a chain around his neck and there I see the hour glass dangling unthreateningly. The indents of aged muscle mould above his chest bone to form perfect pectorals. On each tiny nipple is another hoop; only, they are bronze in appearance, almost wilting in their achingness. I'm overwhelmed as I thought I recognised the curling of his mouth, a smile for me. I smile back uncertain if he would think I am afraid. Then his sharp ivory teeth poke out and I know I have done a good thing. The greens of his emerald eyes enlighten the evilness, he just wants fresh air from the summers sky as I do. A tail slivers like a python in the air with a triangular form at its end. His nails look dangerous on the edges if his twig like fingers. But I do not feel them piercing my soul. For his hour glass is not pouring any golden sand on this day, no. So I watch him leave and I am left to thoughts about a small world with the beetles, flies and mice. I find myself then laughing at such mythical fantasies.
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Book: Shattered Sighs