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 The alleyways within the maze are paved with rats and mice. Evangelists with moneyed fists collect the sacrifice from losers scorned and rubes reborn, and promise paradise, while in the back they cook some crack, inhale, and roll the dice. A bum called Boe has stubbed his toe, he’s stumbled in the gutter; with broken neck, he looks a wreck, the sparrows all aflutter, the passers-by, they close an eye, and turn their heads and mutter: “Let’s pray for rains to wash the lanes, to clear away the clutter.” A river slows neath mountain snows, and leaves begin to shudder. Though rip-off shops and crooked cops are paid not once but thrice, the painted girl with flaxen curl is paring down her price and loosely tempts cold hands unkempt to touch the merchandise. A crazy guy cries “where am I”, a schizo titters twice, and double quick a lunatic affects a fight with lice. The jungle teems, a siren screams, the air is filled with meth. The Reverent Priest and nuns unleash the Holy Shibboleth. And Righteous Jane who is insane, as well as Sister Beth, while telling tales to no avail of everlasting death, at least imbue Hagg Avenue with whisky on their breath. The Reverent Priest combats the Beast, they’re kneeling down to prey, to fight the truth with fang and tooth, to toil for yesterday, to etch their mark within the dark, to paint their résumé on shrouds and sheets which then completes the devil’s dossier. Old dan, he's drunk and in a funk, all mired in the mud. A Monk begins to wash Dan’s sins, and asks “How are you, Bud?” “I’m feeling pain and crying rain till soon there is a flood. And no god’s there who seems to care I’m always coughing blood.” The Monk, he turns, Dan’s words he spurns and lets the bible thud. Well, Banjo Boy, he will annoy with jangled rhymes that fray: “The clanging bells of carousels lead blind men’s minds astray to rings of gold they’ll never hold in fingers made of clay. But crest and crown will crumble down, when withered roots decay.” Continued
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