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 It’s all I can do to not carve these words across my eyes. To immortalize what I imagine, on this bleak, innocent canvas. Each thought is a stain that seeps through beyond my reckoning. It spills out, unbidden, to fall from the heavens and lay withered on cracked asphalt. Buried is the green, and the world with it. Strewn out upon these barriers are the bi-products of society’s desires. Somehow the idea blossoms that this waste is cast down to smother an even greater crime. No one wants to see any longer. They only want to believe. As so I myself perceive. And as I walk down these paths torn asunder, through a labyrinth, a catacomb that holds all of our perfections, I can only search blindly for the footprints that I have left a thousand thousand times. Alas, they fly with the wind. Carried off to places unfamiliar, waiting to be embraced once more. Uninvited, they may creep into my pondering. Secretly, they may attack me on my wonderings. Yet how can I resemble them, recreate them, when they are forgotten to me? Piece by piece, layer by layer, they plummet to crash fragmented. Under the sun I chase these riddles, trying to reconstruct a monument that was never built. Though as my last sun sets, I hold dear all that has eluded me. For when my eyes close, and the monolithic projectors begin their show, I can only sit and stare. Caught in the illusion of an audience, I watch as they do: bright eyed, full of wonder, at what the next frame will bring. Yet I have seen these sights a thousand thousand times before. So why, in the beautiful darkness, must light be born. Is it enough to live each day like the last, when each step you take edges you closer to the End, or the Return. And after each breath that I have taken, every word that I have read and written, I can assure you that I know nothing. I am forgetting what the sun looks like, though the moon has found a place to reside. So under these starlit twilights, I will watch as I always have: without them, without even you. Only I, as I run through reaping all that I have sown.
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