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.



Enter Title (Not Required)

Enter Poem or Quote (Required)

Enter Author Name (Not Required)

Move Text:

Heading Text

       
Color:

Main/Poem Text

       
Color:
Background Position Alignment:
  | 
 

Upload Image: 
 


 
 10mb max file size

Use Internet Image:




Like: https://www.poetrysoup.com/images/ce_Finnaly_home_soare.jpg  
Layout:   
www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry
Maybe Still Forgotten
Left alone, the abyss of failure closes in, for days it seems like weeks, though months are now reduced to counted minutes Coffin’d stances form the stoic barricade which surrounds my hope in picket lines of untrained defectors I claw at its lid, thrashing mightily to my sides as collections of miseries flood this chamber of my coerced sleep “I am here!” I shout, hearing my words echo in distance dance halls two stepping on my memory, spitting above where I lie Here - a relevant term as columns of disbelief carve themselves from my mind. Forgotten, left for dead, erased from the blackboard by the firm swishing hand of fate… reduced to dust (I don’t feel like dust) Blisters climb my arms in search of answers, none can be found here, where ever the hell here is… yet, I am here My brain circles the skyline in desperation, the gutters below cry, trash strewn as if it were me sleeping off my drunk in that Frigidaire box “I am me!” I cry to the empty corridors of someone else’s life One I’d rather be Or one who would rather not? ............................................... Someday my file may lie open, atop a desk, a partitioned sanctuary of hidden ethics, beneath the crumpled Cheeto’s bag, now layered with orange crumbs and fingerprints maybe someone will see maybe still forgotten
Copyright © 2024 Chris Green. All Rights Reserved

Book: Reflection on the Important Things