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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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Delta Dirt By Patrick Kelly I think back through years long past, when I was a child. I looked across cotton fields that ran a country mile Cotton grew in all the fields, the old house sat on one end, In front, an old cottonwood tree, in the back, a river bend. I can see my grandfather, as my mind wanders back to long ago, sitting on the porch steps, a file in one hand, in the other a hoe. My grandmother in the kitchen, the smell of ham and eggs, Biscuits, hot and buttered, on a table with square legs. Then all those Sunday dinners, chicken piled high on a plate, vegetables, fresh from the garden, men and children ate first, the women would wait. The life of a cotton farmer, a family that got up before the morning light, In the fields by sunrise, sitting on the porch at night. Picking time would come around and I picked in my little tow sack, Thirty pounds I could pick, a lot of weight for a little boy’s back. We never knew times were hard, there was hunting and fishing too. I still remember my first shotgun, a 410 hand me down, I thought it new Times spent hunting under the river hill and a sling-shot shooting at jars My brother riding that old bicycle, I sat on the handle bar. Winter was time to kill a hog, in the smokehouse hams would hang. We drank water from a bucket, fresh from an artesian spring. So, when I think back to those days, why do they seem so neat? Wonder, if I could go back to that delta dirt under my feet? .

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Delta Dirt

Delta Dirt By Patrick Kelly I think back through years long past, when I was a child. I looked across cotton fields that ran a country mile Cotton grew in all the fields, the old house sat on one end, In front, an old cottonwood tree, in the back, a river bend. I can see my grandfather, as my mind wanders back to long ago, sitting on the porch steps, a file in one hand, in the other a hoe. My grandmother in the kitchen, the smell of ham and eggs, Biscuits, hot and buttered, on a table with square legs. Then all those Sunday dinners, chicken piled high on a plate, vegetables, fresh from the garden, men and children ate first, the women would wait. The life of a cotton farmer, a family that got up before the morning light, In the fields by sunrise, sitting on the porch at night. Picking time would come around and I picked in my little tow sack, Thirty pounds I could pick, a lot of weight for a little boy’s back. We never knew times were hard, there was hunting and fishing too. I still remember my first shotgun, a 410 hand me down, I thought it new Times spent hunting under the river hill and a sling-shot shooting at jars My brother riding that old bicycle, I sat on the handle bar. Winter was time to kill a hog, in the smokehouse hams would hang. We drank water from a bucket, fresh from an artesian spring. So, when I think back to those days, why do they seem so neat? Wonder, if I could go back to that delta dirt under my feet? .

Book: Reflection on the Important Things