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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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He left for work, lunch pail in hand – a warm kiss on the cheek at the door. His arms wrapped me in a big, bear hug – he promised he’d be home at four. The feel of his embrace as a warm cocoon – made me happy to be alive. The sound of his tires on the gravel – as he slowly pulled out of the drive. My father was my inspiration - like a tissue for all of my tears. As long as I had my pappy - I felt cushioned from pain and fear. The school day went by quickly – a blanket of white outside. I stuck my tongue out to taste the snow – and the cold melted warm as pie. Stunned by the silence of an empty house – an indication of something gone wrong. A tremble of fear like a chill in the air – the startling message on the phone. My father would not be home at four – his heart gave out on the job. He was breathing artificial life - my own heart began to throb. I tasted tears all through the night - my pulsing heart in shock. I watched the passing of the moon - like a total eclipse of the clock. The piercing sound of the ringing phone – at precisely half past six. I heard my mother fall to the floor – the shock of a loss too big. It was March of 1976 and the lunch pail sat alone – I would never again hear the sound of his tires. He was never coming home.

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The Lunch Pail

He left for work, lunch pail in hand – a warm kiss on the cheek at the door. His arms wrapped me in a big, bear hug – he promised he’d be home at four. The feel of his embrace as a warm cocoon – made me happy to be alive. The sound of his tires on the gravel – as he slowly pulled out of the drive. My father was my inspiration - like a tissue for all of my tears. As long as I had my pappy - I felt cushioned from pain and fear. The school day went by quickly – a blanket of white outside. I stuck my tongue out to taste the snow – and the cold melted warm as pie. Stunned by the silence of an empty house – an indication of something gone wrong. A tremble of fear like a chill in the air – the startling message on the phone. My father would not be home at four – his heart gave out on the job. He was breathing artificial life - my own heart began to throb. I tasted tears all through the night - my pulsing heart in shock. I watched the passing of the moon - like a total eclipse of the clock. The piercing sound of the ringing phone – at precisely half past six. I heard my mother fall to the floor – the shock of a loss too big. It was March of 1976 and the lunch pail sat alone – I would never again hear the sound of his tires. He was never coming home.