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)Required wreckless. no one is less a man than a cadaver, high on good guy philosophy. too much for me. white wash. there is a room w/ no walls. there is no room. Pandora; show me that your box isn’t purely decorative. i’ll show you that my brain, indeed, is figurative. scratching. i hear scratching from inside! a rat? no! a cat? no! a eunichorn? most definitely! no loyalty in that box. no lithium to be had. strange fish flopping ’round w/ bovine skulls, in a christian world, sad. how much buddha is too much buddha? i see him reclined in my father’s chair, uncharacteristically somber— masturbating into a flower. i turn inside out, away. distant. children skipping rope in silhouette, gunk on their faces. no spittle for the kleenex; mothers w/ dry mouths, eating corporate odour. Brand New Century, Half The Fat! innovative contraceptives administered at birth; a layer of crazy glue, a surgical glove, another layer of glue and then we send them off to play in the sand. Crazy. an asian man is laughing horizontal naked, an “Hello! My Name Is:” pin attached through his nipple. his name is Tex. An asian man named Tex. there are constant shortages; money, laughter, tenderness... the cracks in my kitchen are filled w/ poetry. we take solace in each other; minds, bodies. trade our youths for bread, drink from lacerated palms. i look to find no windows; only one immaculate door, located on the ceiling, and i’ve no ladder. Poverty’s angels must not fall, must not die at the hands of their own good graces. down here. we promise ourselves forever not to be sickened by our own fears. only the shadows that they cast.
Enter Author Name (Not Required)