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
Old Woman In the Supermarket
From my chap book, "Not So Serious" ‘Tradition demands respect for age.’ Proclaimed some ancient Chinese sage. Ah, that is such a noble thought, But wise old Chow he really ought To walk the isles of a supermart, Stand behind old granny’s cart, Left mid-aisle, perhaps forgot. Limp, lump, wrinkle, lowly bent, God only knows what’s her intent. She, oh so slowly, moves about, No particular thought or route. Oblivious, she, this ancient dame, To all but her arthritic pain. But be thou merciful, be kind When standing in the checkout line. She’ll goose you with her shopping cart, Perhaps let loose a trembling fart; Then once she’s standing at the till, She’ll fish a coupon, argue the bill. Then comes one’s truest peeve of all, Poor clerk has made call after call; Out comes the hoary, leather purse, A waiting shopper’s foulest curse. She shuffles, mixes, dips, dips, dips, A whiteness on her withered lips. Minutes go by, seeming like weeks; At last she grins, cackling, speaks. “Oh, dear, my money’s out in the car. Please wait, I’ll run, it isn’t far.”
Copyright © 2024 Daver Austin. All Rights Reserved

Book: Shattered Sighs