Home » Poems » Poetry Art » Poetry Art / Greeting Card Maker

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.

Text
Layout
Background

Enter Title (Not Required)

Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required
I hear guitars a’ calling in the gloaming’s final fling when sinking suns subdue their flames and fairies take to wing as day departs, a yawning ash, beneath a dusky haze igniting one by one the jewels of midnight’s diamond blaze. I hear guitars a’ calling in the clouds within the skies, with tunes which trill like welling tears from somber misting eyes of misplaced muted homeless souls who drift alone in grief beneath the silence of the stars that offers no relief. I hear guitars a’ calling in the beat beneath her breast; their murmur throbs with passion’s pulse and sensuous unrest that rumbles deep in worried woods before impending storms and splits the air in morning meadows, ere the sunrise warms. I hear guitars a’ calling in the pitter-patter rain which summons with a soothing sound upon my window pane evoking bygone childhood dreams within a vagrant breeze engulfing me in gusty swirls down misty vortices. I hear guitars a’ calling in the waves on distant shores; they’re crashing out a monody upon the mystic oars of phantom ships within the dawn, like speckled caravels a’ sail on seas of raven wings to moonlit citadels. I hear guitars a’ calling in the morning’s reveilles; they’re pouring fires in the skies and burning up the seas, while waking flowers in the fields and setting trees ablaze, and closing one by one the eyes of midnight’s starry gaze. I hear guitars a’ calling in the deserts of my mind; they’re nullifying hollow realms that time has left behind, where pathless sands are blazing hot, the sun is set to die and weary hounds are panting faint’, their tongues hung long and dry.

Enter Author Name (Not Required)

Move Text:

Heading Text

Color:

Main/Poem Text

Color:

Background Position Alignment:
LeftCenterRight | TopCenterBottom

Tall Bkgds
Wide Bkgds

Upload Image:

Fit to HeightFit to Width

10mb max file size

Use Internet Image:

Fit to HeightFit to Width

Like: https://www.poetrysoup.com/images/ce_Finnaly_home_soare.jpg

Layout: TallShort

www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry

I Hear Guitars A' Calling

I hear guitars a’ calling in the gloaming’s final fling when sinking suns subdue their flames and fairies take to wing as day departs, a yawning ash, beneath a dusky haze igniting one by one the jewels of midnight’s diamond blaze. I hear guitars a’ calling in the clouds within the skies, with tunes which trill like welling tears from somber misting eyes of misplaced muted homeless souls who drift alone in grief beneath the silence of the stars that offers no relief. I hear guitars a’ calling in the beat beneath her breast; their murmur throbs with passion’s pulse and sensuous unrest that rumbles deep in worried woods before impending storms and splits the air in morning meadows, ere the sunrise warms. I hear guitars a’ calling in the pitter-patter rain which summons with a soothing sound upon my window pane evoking bygone childhood dreams within a vagrant breeze engulfing me in gusty swirls down misty vortices. I hear guitars a’ calling in the waves on distant shores; they’re crashing out a monody upon the mystic oars of phantom ships within the dawn, like speckled caravels a’ sail on seas of raven wings to moonlit citadels. I hear guitars a’ calling in the morning’s reveilles; they’re pouring fires in the skies and burning up the seas, while waking flowers in the fields and setting trees ablaze, and closing one by one the eyes of midnight’s starry gaze. I hear guitars a’ calling in the deserts of my mind; they’re nullifying hollow realms that time has left behind, where pathless sands are blazing hot, the sun is set to die and weary hounds are panting faint’, their tongues hung long and dry.