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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.

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Life, and the people in it, squeeze us into boxes.: Sometimes we fit, sometimes not. Often we try to live in a box not meant for us To please other people: stressing, straining to conform To social 'norm' or what is 'expected' as we fill a role. At first the box feels fine as we snuggle in, Looking at the sky through the open lid. We don't even notice it closing in, so cosy are we. Until one day we can't see the sky any more, It has disappeared from view, and we're stuck - No wriggle room, shackles on, claustrophobic, stifled, Fused into conformity, a uniformity of existence. No music, no singing or bird song, joyless: Drone and not queen bee, steadily descending Into anonymity, automaton, devoid of emotion - numb. When realisation hits, we scratch at the lid; Frantic, manic in our effort to see the sky again. To sing, to run, to flee, chasing after 'me' - if I can recognise Myself in the madding crowd. Shouting loud, pleading for Recognition in the sea of faces surrounding the box. We are all prisoners of societal 'normality': all have roles to play. 'All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances', and their boxes! The key Is to always leave the lid ajar to see a glimpse of sky. To have a little perch outside, and a mode in which to 'fly'.

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Life, and the people in it, squeeze us into boxes.: Sometimes we fit, sometimes not. Often we try to live in a box not meant for us To please other people: stressing, straining to conform To social 'norm' or what is 'expected' as we fill a role. At first the box feels fine as we snuggle in, Looking at the sky through the open lid. We don't even notice it closing in, so cosy are we. Until one day we can't see the sky any more, It has disappeared from view, and we're stuck - No wriggle room, shackles on, claustrophobic, stifled, Fused into conformity, a uniformity of existence. No music, no singing or bird song, joyless: Drone and not queen bee, steadily descending Into anonymity, automaton, devoid of emotion - numb. When realisation hits, we scratch at the lid; Frantic, manic in our effort to see the sky again. To sing, to run, to flee, chasing after 'me' - if I can recognise Myself in the madding crowd. Shouting loud, pleading for Recognition in the sea of faces surrounding the box. We are all prisoners of societal 'normality': all have roles to play. 'All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances', and their boxes! The key Is to always leave the lid ajar to see a glimpse of sky. To have a little perch outside, and a mode in which to 'fly'.