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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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Arise little boy, to a home, Soaked in love, and bathed in traditions of yesteryear, with a tenderness that slowly slips to the verge of extinction, Modern times make the model family a modern art form that lacks understanding, yet what do we deprived, know of these scenes of endearment? Or the eccentric moments that should be cherished, remembered, and conventional, A mother playfully squeezes her son's cheek, as he returns the affection, with a kiss to hers, then gazes at the stepfather with respect, painting a memory for those of us who have become robots to the ways of a quintessential dwelling place, a place which we long to remember or , in some case, experience, Yet will never know the warmth of being a "baby" to a mother, or the "pride" of a fathers gaze, Still, such scenes do exist, and I have witnessed the momentary grace that is reached, when hearts become infinite, and embrace their own as well as newcomers, Sitting within the warm shelter of Pat's Kitchen, I record and rewind the events for reasons beyond my control, To make myself a member? To warm myself from the depths of my own neglect? Or to take value in what was deprived to me as a child? Reasons unknown or all known, this moment opens a part of me I assumed was condemned to the darkest depths of my isolation, Thus, I fight myself to run from, and be a part of this memory that is not mine, but the feeling, I envy. For a moment, my cynicism is disregarded, and after thirteen years, my eyes tear, my childhood is healed, and briefly, I feel awake,
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