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
Blood Words, Legends of the Wolves
Yea, victors jest. They out-sped the cast of hunger’s cave. Their cantors, ragged kept, did reach an faithful end. They in the din o’ drizzle laugh, licking cool drams from stone, as had they crawled o’er hot pools bled to prod ‘n prattle. And who’d, when quenched, a saunter risk simply to gaze at greener gray, who if by haze be fraught, need merely fathom sky? Lest be displeasured he to whom above could clouds be prone to tattle, go but shy requests, voiced dryly into azure. For so the victims passed, betrayed by breeze and snitch of brush, though Him on High, with just demand, they had beseeched. Each life a tale brought to lie, defaced, in scattered, muddy tomes. Torn is the silver lace, which once linked bone to bone. Yet risen, too, had wanton sighs, whereof his Mightiest to ask, whilst the ground, as should it care, received the rasps. For what doth emptiness command and what the unseen sovereign willeth are left matters later glibly to be bantered. Know oft’ the hunt finds one befuddled, spelled by guiles of a wraith. No taunt of tail waves, no wake of twig gives sway. With head to hang, his rack he gathers in a push to halt to stand bequeathed a chide of birds and chipmunk heckles. There, the timber rout delays with naught but mettle left to drain, as the mars of rock and thistle mark the wait. Chafe of paw, tongue feathered fowl, the foiled dashes stream to words, whereto the blood, in ruddy tones, by droplets trickles.
Copyright © 2024 Eric Dent. All Rights Reserved

Book: Reflection on the Important Things