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 Immortal. The word spoken passed through on a slight breeze, a wind to splinter trees. A flaming light, in the distance a bird in solemn flight. Soaring over, down below, drove into the depths as the White Willow sheds its last leaves. As green as the first morning of Spring, yet now rots in slow sleep to become once more: One. Immortal, gasps the widow of wisps-- the pale Madame of the White Willow. Crying out, wishing to take to the boundless dark above. Gleaming gemstones, a necklace wrought in the cosmos: one of which the loveless lover desired. Above all else: wanting love and loving to want, these malignant forces of an antithetical nature reflected what she found deep within her. And her silks turned to rags. And her hair turned to brittle strands, ones of which the Autumn winds howl into submission. Immortal, her lips pursed around a dying fire, stoking the flames with the last of Spring’s Dream-- the faded fragments of a once blinding green, now set in flame. Now resting in ash. Darkness: Eternity. Her reels and gears make their final rounds, while the sculptor perishes. The garnishing has turned to rust beneath the bright pools, yet they are ever-glowing beyond the bounds of what we believe to be our lives. The pendant, once the mortar of what she had lost, though now the supernova of what she could no longer deny. Immortal, she smiles as she climbs ever higher into the canopies of the White Willow. Higher, higher, closer to Nirvana-- a place of kingdoms constructed of star-light, of moon, and of the dark more immense and deep than any God could ever comprehend. Let the dusk descend, for it is always the darkest before the most radiant of dawns. And as her eyes close, the undying pondering a leisurely slumber, the Willows wail once more: Immortal. She wakens with a fright. Immortal, she calls out softly, until nestling again in the shade of a white tree-- it’s branches heaven-bound and it’s leaves more green than the vividest dream of Spring.
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