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
The Bartering
And even after night became dawn After confession tumbled priest and pawn I still wish, forever, O you did come Push back the cubicle to your face What joy there could tell ransome What opportunity of unfolding grace Had visions of songs in expectation And miss the lie more the jubilation For in that pious place the big mask Is not the priest's, but that of saints Who wearing robes that grace task To the blind booth tell all complaints For in Leah only the blind has lost I pay nor penance, nor father's cost Coming empty to an empty world To find for us our confiscated part In each surprise some joy is hurled Some mending of the broken heart I wish you were there in fool's belief That penury would purchase no relief Or that truth would deflate desire Where loneliness against the time, ranks A man like fodder for the quick fire The hard thing to see is mote, not the planks. Why did you not come like dawn, why Stupid bird, long flown, for you I sigh Do you need read the weather's sign And understand not in them the only joy Is that which in maze nor plain I find In words alone the decoy meets the decoy. O that pride had a plainer tongue to say The deepest anger is in the cirrus day For most, carelessly, speak of sudden storms I only know the churning heat, the long Foretell against the blind blistering of norms The silent hum of a sweet, sinister song.
Copyright © 2025 David Smalling. All Rights Reserved