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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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Words on the wall. Go with Paul. So profound. Like a crystal ball. Okay, all coming back. Should have read. Julie, will you go with Paul. But it didn’t. Surely a message. A deeper meaning. Check the celestial phone. A message awaits. You dirty lying scummbag, drop dead. Should I tell her there's only one M in, scumbag. Could this be another message. I enlighten her. The other M is for mother-F But is it. Is there an even deeper meaning. The celestial phone bleeps. I peruse the heavenly text. Actually, there should be an extra B with the extra M, bastard. I see pain in her text. I feel it myself. There is a wanting. Flowers and chocolates. I feel comfort walking through the graveyard. Knowing random people are helping me in the pursuit of love. I throw a pebble up to her window. Holding my mixed bunch of flowers. Old Mrs Jones looks down, smiling. If I was seventy, I’d do, I digress. I bade her in, throwing the pebble up to my true love. Who opened the window maybe a tad too early. She screams my name. Which was comforting in a strange way. Old Mrs Jones looked out, recoiling in horror, knocking herself out in the process. I realised I had forgotten the chocolates. Darling, could you lend me ten pounds. Something in her one good eye told me no. The paramedics told me to go. The Police read me my rights. Putting me up for the day, and the night. Still, as the Community payback man said as I was scrubbing the wall. It’s not like you’re Banksy, is it, Paul. I felt a deeper meaning. A thought had occurred It would take a lot of paint. But would be worth the pain. I worked through the night. Such a delight. I threw a pebble up to her window. Old Mrs Jones looked down at the naked mural of me, and dropped dead. Julie sort of squinted in dread. But the gun in her hand. Well, enough said. The police charged me with indecent exposure. Though the court said that wasn’t quite true. Still, the Community payback man said. I’m really impressed. I mean, it's different. Maybe you should have added a verse. He stopped me scrubbing. We bowed our heads. As old Mrs Jones passed by in the hearse.

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Words on the wall. Go with Paul. So profound. Like a crystal ball. Okay, all coming back. Should have read. Julie, will you go with Paul. But it didn’t. Surely a message. A deeper meaning. Check the celestial phone. A message awaits. You dirty lying scummbag, drop dead. Should I tell her there's only one M in, scumbag. Could this be another message. I enlighten her. The other M is for mother-F But is it. Is there an even deeper meaning. The celestial phone bleeps. I peruse the heavenly text. Actually, there should be an extra B with the extra M, bastard. I see pain in her text. I feel it myself. There is a wanting. Flowers and chocolates. I feel comfort walking through the graveyard. Knowing random people are helping me in the pursuit of love. I throw a pebble up to her window. Holding my mixed bunch of flowers. Old Mrs Jones looks down, smiling. If I was seventy, I’d do, I digress. I bade her in, throwing the pebble up to my true love. Who opened the window maybe a tad too early. She screams my name. Which was comforting in a strange way. Old Mrs Jones looked out, recoiling in horror, knocking herself out in the process. I realised I had forgotten the chocolates. Darling, could you lend me ten pounds. Something in her one good eye told me no. The paramedics told me to go. The Police read me my rights. Putting me up for the day, and the night. Still, as the Community payback man said as I was scrubbing the wall. It’s not like you’re Banksy, is it, Paul. I felt a deeper meaning. A thought had occurred It would take a lot of paint. But would be worth the pain. I worked through the night. Such a delight. I threw a pebble up to her window. Old Mrs Jones looked down at the naked mural of me, and dropped dead. Julie sort of squinted in dread. But the gun in her hand. Well, enough said. The police charged me with indecent exposure. Though the court said that wasn’t quite true. Still, the Community payback man said. I’m really impressed. I mean, it's different. Maybe you should have added a verse. He stopped me scrubbing. We bowed our heads. As old Mrs Jones passed by in the hearse.