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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My Love Lies Bleeding (Part I)
My love lies bleeding among the meadowbeauties, purple, entangled by hairy caltrop around her delicate feet and ankles. Climbing upward, its thistled fruit prick my fingers and palms; as I unsnarl the dodder from her full lips, its stems strengthen around her sultry paps and loins, and the binds tighten around her slender arms and hands, forced to the base of her back. I strip their adherence from leeching upon her naked form, all the while cursing myself within, and the puncturevines mysteriously vanish at her side. I see the small spikes have left their marks. Then, I unveil her face hidden by her tresses in a blue mist. My heart pounds for her; my eyes rush like the nearby stream, and my bare body collapses upon her with a firm embrace. From where did this evil come? To where did those spiny heads go? What opportunity did they find to rush upon her? For my love never trembled or tottered; she was never in idleness. She is young and beautiful, but now my love lies dying among the meadow rues, the ravens walkaway. Onlook the meadowsweets and the lark, who consoles my lovesick heart, as I prepare to gather up her limp body. Folding her arms across her breast, I cradle her neck and crown of black curly locks with my left arm, and with my right arm under her sculptured legs, I lift her out of the soft furrow. The colorful ribbons we had tied in her hair bounce and sway as I walk the distance to gently lay her figure upon the altar (the same altar to which she had been led to me) coiled with ornamental shrubs of flowers in cymes, snowdrops and aster florets. Within the garden's border of thornless rose bushes, I wash her body with the evening dew fallen upon their petals, likened to silk cloths. Longingly and lovingly, I wail before her on my kness; gazing upon her, coupled with the heady scent of jasmine, I am held captive there, but urgency frees me to rise and leave her body well-gaurded by an array of gladioluses, amaryllis and sansevieria.
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