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
The night shone for the full moon, Sky brewing a coarse monsoon, Bolted were windows, locked were doors, The frequency of death frighteningly soared. But who was this infant high upon the hill? He denied the storm and just stood stone still, Eyes shut like blinds and fingers dug into ground, Felt he could move no muscle, for was sadly street bound. Shutting his eyes, arms wrapped tight round His skinny body, battered and browned Praying for the sake of friends, family and all However imaginary, he imagined them call “Boy, come to us we love you most” “Our love for you is bigger than the Canadian coast” “Do not cry, remember our love” Joining their gaze in the beyond above, He softly mumbled a song to forget, The once daily song that was always a duet, Alone on that hill without any feel, Of an afterlife he finally accepted, wasn’t real Tears met the floor, now bathed in yellow light, As lightning struck him too quick to fright, Child lay on the floor, dismembered and black, Though his mouth was smiling and his happiness had come back, As re-joined with family, head held high, He waved his tortured existence goodbye. Hugging his mum and his dad the same, Somehow put an end to the incessant rain, The natives emerged from their homes, safe and sound, The boy crying for happiness at the new life he had found. Soul peering at his body, dead at age eleven, Holding family’s hands they could finally pass on and join heaven. The touch of their skin brought old emotion, Parents who were torn betwixt war and devotion, A child whom they gave their best shot, By train to board and bomb to not. The grave of the boy with the electric crown, Who carried a burden he couldn’t live down, Stood proud in the yard of cobbles and stones, For everyone knew those were a heroes bones, When you look into the sky on a stormy night, Remind yourself of the boy’s plight. As he is the clouds that damper weather, Out to protect his town, children altogether, He wanted a life for them around, That didn’t consist of being mentally wound, A life that he could never possess, But he did not bathe in spiralling depress. Life is sacred, upon that hill, Those cobbles and stones bring great goodwill, For the sun only shines on that grassy land, Still holding marks of the boy’s humble hand, Some say that the yearly rain, Is him up above, the tears of a chain. The chain of the tears shed on that night, Of the fear and happiness’ conventional recite, Up above, being tucked under the covers, Is a little boy with an injury he recovers, Mother kisses his head and says her goodnight, Father over bed, comforting a nightmare fright. Drifting off, the boy could hear, A little rhyme to calm his fear, “Boy, come to us we love you most” “Our love for you is bigger than the Canadian coast” “Do not cry remember our love-“ The young man rose slowly in his bed, Opened his eyes and smiled as he said “I’m here”

Enter Author Name (Not Required)

Move Text:

Heading Text

Color:

Main/Poem Text

Color:

Layout: TallShort

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

Evacuation and Loss

The night shone for the full moon, Sky brewing a coarse monsoon, Bolted were windows, locked were doors, The frequency of death frighteningly soared. But who was this infant high upon the hill? He denied the storm and just stood stone still, Eyes shut like blinds and fingers dug into ground, Felt he could move no muscle, for was sadly street bound. Shutting his eyes, arms wrapped tight round His skinny body, battered and browned Praying for the sake of friends, family and all However imaginary, he imagined them call “Boy, come to us we love you most” “Our love for you is bigger than the Canadian coast” “Do not cry, remember our love” Joining their gaze in the beyond above, He softly mumbled a song to forget, The once daily song that was always a duet, Alone on that hill without any feel, Of an afterlife he finally accepted, wasn’t real Tears met the floor, now bathed in yellow light, As lightning struck him too quick to fright, Child lay on the floor, dismembered and black, Though his mouth was smiling and his happiness had come back, As re-joined with family, head held high, He waved his tortured existence goodbye. Hugging his mum and his dad the same, Somehow put an end to the incessant rain, The natives emerged from their homes, safe and sound, The boy crying for happiness at the new life he had found. Soul peering at his body, dead at age eleven, Holding family’s hands they could finally pass on and join heaven. The touch of their skin brought old emotion, Parents who were torn betwixt war and devotion, A child whom they gave their best shot, By train to board and bomb to not. The grave of the boy with the electric crown, Who carried a burden he couldn’t live down, Stood proud in the yard of cobbles and stones, For everyone knew those were a heroes bones, When you look into the sky on a stormy night, Remind yourself of the boy’s plight. As he is the clouds that damper weather, Out to protect his town, children altogether, He wanted a life for them around, That didn’t consist of being mentally wound, A life that he could never possess, But he did not bathe in spiralling depress. Life is sacred, upon that hill, Those cobbles and stones bring great goodwill, For the sun only shines on that grassy land, Still holding marks of the boy’s humble hand, Some say that the yearly rain, Is him up above, the tears of a chain. The chain of the tears shed on that night, Of the fear and happiness’ conventional recite, Up above, being tucked under the covers, Is a little boy with an injury he recovers, Mother kisses his head and says her goodnight, Father over bed, comforting a nightmare fright. Drifting off, the boy could hear, A little rhyme to calm his fear, “Boy, come to us we love you most” “Our love for you is bigger than the Canadian coast” “Do not cry remember our love-“ The young man rose slowly in his bed, Opened his eyes and smiled as he said “I’m here”