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 What kind of crazy whimsicality is this? I mouth to Trixie, my muse. She is wearing a red tutu, and has on gray striped headphones. Dancing to some kind of bee bop music I dare not listen to myself. It will be way too sexy for my ears. Trixie’s hair is pink today with silver sparkles, and she has a blue streak. Her third combination hair color of the week. Trixie is gloriously full of herself, and she thrives on overkill. Yesterday her tresses were rainbow with a splash of orange. She was wearing a red felt tarboosh with a tassel at breakfast. An improvement over the camoflauge pith helmet from Friday. Still, unusual for her. Her pink yoga mat is out. She is exercising now. I look on her light up chart. She will be doing fifty sit-ups and six-hundred jumping jacks. Guess which one is her favorite? I try to squelch her a bit, because I need her insight today. But she waves me away and laughs at my human silliness. “Energy begets energy,” she reminds me. I patter into the kitchen to fix myself a caramel latte with whipped cream. I am warming up a couple of chocolate chip cookies when Trixie starts pulling at my brain. “I thought you would need at least twenty-five minutes,” I argue. Her hands are on her hips and she is glaring at me now. “Now or never,” she says. So the cookies have to wait.
Enter Author Name (Not Required)