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 the photo graphic, 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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www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry
The Scent Of Your Soul
The scent of your soul A caramelised breeze of fruit odours reverberating softly through my memory Throwing me right back in ninth grade where we sat side by side Your right arm reaching slightly for my back. Thoughts of you dwell in my mind and your name resonates gently with my spirit carrying me back to the shade of purple orchids in evergreen woods. Our first kiss perched upon last autumn's twig still lingers in early morn's bone-china cup wafting its pungent aroma of dark roast coffee-beans and so the smell of rubber tyres against the wind. Such revoked moments of unknown danger Of fearless dreams , and defiant fun. Other moments of beauty and snow angels Of freedom and moonlights ,sunrise and life. I can still recall those weeks ,months ,years till footprints marked separate paths and our shared candles became the past. Ah those lazy siestas, those days...those nights... Sweet as frosty vanilla and chocolate chips of an ice -cream parlour Melting as spongy marshmallows and honey syrup Fresh as the linen of your shirt which haunts me like an alluring glance of almond - shaped eyes. This afternoon, like other afternoons, I walk to the library that knows the musky sweat of your palm upon my own. That fragrance 's gone now . All that is left is a fading perfume of forgotten petals, between old books and dusty shelves. Nobody here, except my silence and a rotten sliced apple , Vacuum- packed ,lacking both cinnamon and spice. Back home, the mildewed strings of a guitar await my fingertips to play once more ,upon the worn out chords of my heart What willI play , What will I sing , a song that isn't ours ? Fermented wine I pour into an empty glass Yearning to taste the grape for what it was before all it was turned bitter, acidic and sour. Alone , I wonder where you might be So far or not so distant ,listening to the mood in my voice on once upon a record player, Wishing on a star ?
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