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
The Hands That Failed
Square sensible head. held together by a thread.. Gypsy moths in the corner have been there far too long I saw one bearing Saint Peter's prayers the other day. But he was burnt like the rest. The clock's hands have never motioned less and the sun has ran out reasons to be kind. the sun hurts my eyes. maybe by coincidence the sun hurts my liver.. The waxing sun fills my kidneys with a glorious crimson candescence. ohh well its just blood anyways.. I must quit looking for beauty here--return to the hospital rationa corners. still lines lengthening down the hall seem so cold. so I Cleanse my skin in the bathroom and flush water down my esophagus. I must bury in my throat forever the terrible sayings of the gypsy moth. His yellow cocoon is hollow, the weaves of fiber have scratched his eyes. Never thought we would be here now. How empty time slows and narrows. I pass by mirrors with painted angels on them scribbled saying in cursive seem so disgusting. Alcoholics remain anonymous and offer repetitive prayers that fit on tiny mirrors. I reflect narrower as the day passes my fingers grow so thin. My hands fail, the clock on the wall fails.
Copyright © 2024 Nathan Martin. All Rights Reserved

Book: Reflection on the Important Things