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 the photo graphic, 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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www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry
A Near-to- death State Of Mind
He lies, warm and straight; unmoving. Free from pain in his transitionary world; safe within a love that shared his body and mind. Without her altruistic and unyielding care he'd float through the eternal abyss of clouds and endless memories. Images of her weeping pervade. Her tears flow in viscous streams, like lava flows that wrap him in a final expression of love. Hands, once inseparable, are slipping apart; yielding to a final, fingertip touch of goodbye. As they catch a rising breeze, closed curtains stroke a stirring caress like the delicate sway of a grass skirt. Tiny, impish faces appear then disappear among the pattern, playing peep then hiding in their secret, fantasy woodland. The paintings on the walls become animated, zooming and retreating like a camera lens. Their inhabitants: alive and busy like tiny repertory companies in their framed microcosm, creating scenes of a recognisable past. Strange, vague faces of yesterday hover in subjective silence as they claim the gloomy corners of the room. Some smiling, some scowling; some turning away without reason. Why would they turn away? What secrets do they refuse to share? Endless conversations with the dead, yet only one audible participant. Passed relatives visiting incessantly, in forms that bring most comfort. The vertical finger of silence touches the lips when the living enter the room. A shuushhh.....and they leave. Returning to the mysteries that exist beyond this 'mortal coil.' But always they reappear: a night-and-day procession until exhaustion overwhelms. Distant voices of children travel the sky, certain to be heard. That playground cacophany amalgamated to a luring hubbub of childhood communication. The mind floats back with the eye of a soaring eagle. Back through the forest of life, scanning images of existence past, to a clearing where children dance in happy, skipping circles. Suddenly, the sky turns dark, as leaves swirl in rustling tornadoes. Ominous, churning clouds tumble and roll in a thundering menace. The children run, drenched, in an expanding ripple of screams, for the safety of the trees. Then, a flash of lightning ignites a wondrous, refulgent dawn. He steps forward into the glow, without fear, as he hears the cry of a newborn baby, held within its mother's arms. He looks up into the eyes of the mother, and then.......all memories die. A rising breeze blows the curtains open. They unfurl: banners of respect, fluttering in unison for his last, whispered words. On whose release, a wistful wind carries them to an infinite silence: 'I'm tired, my love, I'm so very, very tired.'
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