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 No flame within! do I hold for you no delightful delicacy shall I put to rhyme. No picturesque words in italics of your woeful wildlife, no acknowledgement of the ancient mariner, he that crossed the margin of our “Atlas of the world.” (Still in use, [I believe] in the old stone museum.) One can easily live in fear of your many mordant moods, to see you capture the embracing horizon, where warring clouds fondle the sunlight, and the departing QE 2 is reduced to microcosm. How can one live in awe of you, when at the end of each day you snatch at the light of sustenance, therefore giving license to the veil of damnation, soon to be cast out of the east, driving impending fears to languish upon the unholy waters of the Styx? (An extraction of the mind, an evaporation of the memory the spray dried brain tossed into oblivion.) Yet each morning an interval to one’s ongoing nightmare, when with renewed levitation, the new light reprieved! Begins avidly it’s universal journey across Manukau’s “Pack ‘n’ Save” Car park. Oh yes! It is so easy to hate you; you that brought the rest of the world here, you that constitutes a world within a world, that, where the cycle of life creates it’s own constitution, each player judged on cue, to become an act of fodder, mobile supermarkets in ferocious competition with nothing at all to give. “Unless death itself is a gift!” Upon the surface your treachery still lingers, there, tenacious tentacles lurk within the sedulous surf, groping blindly at sedated rocks, those pinnacles of sanctuary that harbour the weary, support the rod. Only when gravitation truly intervenes, does the perpetual invasion subside, leaving one in no doubt about your promiscuity! © Harry J Horsman 1993
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