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
Pickings
When the snout of lush abundance is full and flowing, when all prey and creature-kind spill upon the verdant swards, then it is that I worry night and day, for the stoat, fox and hawk are at work, they scythe in the whelm and nimiety, they hack and harrow. The kits and chuckling’s are many, the light too bright; for then the foragers forgoing fright, are palpable and open. The long-eared nibblers, hairs on scattered rodents laid bare, they scutter, skitter and twitch much in the open greatly prone to be pounced upon; their paltry pelts all unhidden, and being many, and not running, they are huddled; yet not strong. If this slew not ease, if the grabbers not falter, if the singled-out dither, the glut not wither, then the green snake will climb to where nestlings hutch - they all so easily plucked and quickly snatched. I worry for the wee brown birds; mottled shells still unhatched. I fear a winnowing, withal a harsh hazard of gorge and sate. I fret for the freshly delivered, the teeming, the newly produced, all the bounding bounty for those too easily found and so, arrived too late.
Copyright © 2024 Eric Ashford. All Rights Reserved

Book: Shattered Sighs