Home » Poems » Poetry Art » Poetry Art / Greeting Card Maker

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.

Text
Layout
Background

Enter Title (Not Required)

Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required
Morning unfolds me into its warm and accepting light. I sweep my front porch, read to my boys, walk the dog. I let the breeze blow my hair and rustle my skirt into fluid waves exposing my beautiful scars. I feel less vulnerable; sometimes, I forget. Long ago, I tried in vain to hide my scars, like a forbidden love. I tried to neatly tuck them between my skin and bone in layers of mottled gray, let them pulsate through my veins. Morning unfolds more of me every day, I rise to shed myself of limitations - secrets, shame and a little girl struggling to please everyone and yet no one. Pill bottles, broken bottles, time frozen in a bottle, I have spent too many years sweeping up the past. I am free at last. I tend to my scars, my beautiful scars, most days like a blooming garden of daisies, lilies, and deep, red roses that never die from memory but wither in the cold of night. My scars are my own, I carry them alone. Long ago wishes whisper from a warzone, battles fueled by liquid fire I have cried, “Look at me!” “See my beautiful scars?” “See my lovely garden?” My scars remind me to bind who I was to who I am and who I’ll never be again. My outstretched limbs, my resilient soul, loosen, bend, and guide me. I am learning to trust myself. When it rains, I feel earth cleanse. I feel like staying tucked in bed, but I walk down the city streets, waving at neighbors from under my sky-blue colored umbrella. I am guarded, have always kept my heart sheltered. I weaken in self-preservation. I struggle through my days but keep moving. I wear my beautiful scars. I let the world unfold parts of me - to see, to feel, to step one foot at a time with intent - I hold my head up. I am bold but imperfect, wounded but mended, battered but restored. I am not a cause or a riddle to solve. You cannot fade my beautiful scars. I want to share it all, find solace in the company of someone who understands. It is time for me to leave my sorrow, my fear, my moments when I long to disappear into a bruised and tearful grave. If I dig up my grief, my sickness, my pain. I may discover a light continues to shine from selfless stars at night. In light of day, most eyes ignore my pain. Everyone has their troubles. Everyone turns away. No one wants to get too involved. I am my own friend. I wait till the sun shines again, I cast my grief into the wind where a flock of birds without a name graciously unburden me. On a course to warmer skies, we bond; they admire my beautiful scars. I am beautiful, scars and all. It takes strength to unfold in light of day instead of hiding away. I am awakening with my scars, I let them shine like brilliant jewels worn in elegant moonlight. When morning unfolds, a new day born of sunlight, I know I’ll be alright for a time. Why hide away, waste my days? I am fragmented but complete. I am sensitive, I am spirited, I am alive under my scars, my beautiful scars. I am a survivor. I am scarred but not chained. I am my scars, but I am more. The sun keeps shining down on me. Tomorrow, morning will unfold me, and I will live with my scars, forgive them all. I will be alive - dance, play, maybe even laugh; I’ll get through all the necessary chores of the day. I will feel the wind on my skin, learn from the past, look in the mirror, unfold and touch my beautiful scars. 11/22/15

Enter Author Name (Not Required)

Move Text:

Heading Text

Color:

Main/Poem Text

Color:

Layout: TallShort

www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry

Beautiul Scars

Morning unfolds me into its warm and accepting light. I sweep my front porch, read to my boys, walk the dog. I let the breeze blow my hair and rustle my skirt into fluid waves exposing my beautiful scars. I feel less vulnerable; sometimes, I forget. Long ago, I tried in vain to hide my scars, like a forbidden love. I tried to neatly tuck them between my skin and bone in layers of mottled gray, let them pulsate through my veins. Morning unfolds more of me every day, I rise to shed myself of limitations - secrets, shame and a little girl struggling to please everyone and yet no one. Pill bottles, broken bottles, time frozen in a bottle, I have spent too many years sweeping up the past. I am free at last. I tend to my scars, my beautiful scars, most days like a blooming garden of daisies, lilies, and deep, red roses that never die from memory but wither in the cold of night. My scars are my own, I carry them alone. Long ago wishes whisper from a warzone, battles fueled by liquid fire I have cried, “Look at me!” “See my beautiful scars?” “See my lovely garden?” My scars remind me to bind who I was to who I am and who I’ll never be again. My outstretched limbs, my resilient soul, loosen, bend, and guide me. I am learning to trust myself. When it rains, I feel earth cleanse. I feel like staying tucked in bed, but I walk down the city streets, waving at neighbors from under my sky-blue colored umbrella. I am guarded, have always kept my heart sheltered. I weaken in self-preservation. I struggle through my days but keep moving. I wear my beautiful scars. I let the world unfold parts of me - to see, to feel, to step one foot at a time with intent - I hold my head up. I am bold but imperfect, wounded but mended, battered but restored. I am not a cause or a riddle to solve. You cannot fade my beautiful scars. I want to share it all, find solace in the company of someone who understands. It is time for me to leave my sorrow, my fear, my moments when I long to disappear into a bruised and tearful grave. If I dig up my grief, my sickness, my pain. I may discover a light continues to shine from selfless stars at night. In light of day, most eyes ignore my pain. Everyone has their troubles. Everyone turns away. No one wants to get too involved. I am my own friend. I wait till the sun shines again, I cast my grief into the wind where a flock of birds without a name graciously unburden me. On a course to warmer skies, we bond; they admire my beautiful scars. I am beautiful, scars and all. It takes strength to unfold in light of day instead of hiding away. I am awakening with my scars, I let them shine like brilliant jewels worn in elegant moonlight. When morning unfolds, a new day born of sunlight, I know I’ll be alright for a time. Why hide away, waste my days? I am fragmented but complete. I am sensitive, I am spirited, I am alive under my scars, my beautiful scars. I am a survivor. I am scarred but not chained. I am my scars, but I am more. The sun keeps shining down on me. Tomorrow, morning will unfold me, and I will live with my scars, forgive them all. I will be alive - dance, play, maybe even laugh; I’ll get through all the necessary chores of the day. I will feel the wind on my skin, learn from the past, look in the mirror, unfold and touch my beautiful scars. 11/22/15