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 know you see me from up there, from halfway up the steep and twisting lane. In early half-light as you take your walk I no doubt seem to loom as you descend, appear to grow, to rise from earth, my boxlike rectilinearity, severe and unadorned geometry, a silhouette against the solitary sodium source. I once hosted fiery-throated hymns from dedicated souls in Sunday best: “Marchog, Jesu, yn llwyddiannus”, “O! Iesu mawr, rho d’anian bur” – voices rich and raised and resonant, so filled with faith, so gorged with God. My pitch-pine pews were polished by coat and skirt and trouser twill. Abandoned now, unloved, slab-still, void and stark and desolate, with quarry-tiled floor that would resound with joy were anyone to walk upon it, I present gaping emptiness, a thing felt, a cave whose darkness, palpable, is peopled by retreating echoes of my past, like timorous ghosts far too afraid to speak. But there is One I must not name – though He might be known by the four letters of the tetragrammaton – who lodges in my roomy quarters, cowers within my tight square corners, seeking shadows when the sun stares in. I hear Him breathing as He sweats in His remorse, a thing smelt. He hides from the accusing eyes of every nation, the eyes that witness daily His forlorn creation. (The chapel speaking here is in a small place in West Wales, UK) (Translations: “Marchog, Jesu, yn llwyddiannus” = "Ride on Jesu, all victorious"; “O! Iesu mawr, rho d’anian bur” = "O Jesu, let Thy spirit bless")

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

A Chapel Speaks of God within her Shadows

I know you see me from up there, from halfway up the steep and twisting lane. In early half-light as you take your walk I no doubt seem to loom as you descend, appear to grow, to rise from earth, my boxlike rectilinearity, severe and unadorned geometry, a silhouette against the solitary sodium source. I once hosted fiery-throated hymns from dedicated souls in Sunday best: “Marchog, Jesu, yn llwyddiannus”, “O! Iesu mawr, rho d’anian bur” – voices rich and raised and resonant, so filled with faith, so gorged with God. My pitch-pine pews were polished by coat and skirt and trouser twill. Abandoned now, unloved, slab-still, void and stark and desolate, with quarry-tiled floor that would resound with joy were anyone to walk upon it, I present gaping emptiness, a thing felt, a cave whose darkness, palpable, is peopled by retreating echoes of my past, like timorous ghosts far too afraid to speak. But there is One I must not name – though He might be known by the four letters of the tetragrammaton – who lodges in my roomy quarters, cowers within my tight square corners, seeking shadows when the sun stares in. I hear Him breathing as He sweats in His remorse, a thing smelt. He hides from the accusing eyes of every nation, the eyes that witness daily His forlorn creation. (The chapel speaking here is in a small place in West Wales, UK) (Translations: “Marchog, Jesu, yn llwyddiannus” = "Ride on Jesu, all victorious"; “O! Iesu mawr, rho d’anian bur” = "O Jesu, let Thy spirit bless")