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)Required My Pa warn't much for music, Not like ya hear today. Them tune he learnt and taught me, Were from a bygone day. But Saturday nights were special; At least they were to me. Cause that was when we'd play them songs I learnt at Daddy's knee. Bald headed as a cue ball, A grin from ear to ear. He'd hum and play, and out would come That music I'd revere. He'd plunk his old five-stringer, I'd make my old blues harp sing. Ole Blue would start a-howling, Till you couldn?t hear a thing. Then Ma sung "Rock of Ages" Her voice was pure delight. The cats and dogs got terrorized, And ran off into the night. We'd continue our commotion, Then really harmonize. You knew the blend was perfect, 'Cause there'd be tears in Papa's eye. Them old songs, sad and poignant, Would soak you to the bone. You could hear an old train whistle, Or feel the chain gang moan. Stooped right there with the slave man, As he toiled out in the sun. Or I'd sense the wild Missouri, Watch it ripple, see it run. We'd walk streets of Laredo, A poor cowboy in the dirt, His last request while dying, With blood caked on his shirt. Special words and music, At least they were to me. Sad old songs, just known to us, Learnt there at Daddy's knee. Well, Pa's been gone for ages, Though it seems like yesterday, When we would play together, The world would flow away. There's night your mind just wanders back, On how it used to be. So long ago, in simple times, And the music at his knee. I'll grasp my old harmonica, Now cracked and full of rust. Then squeak and squawk a couple notes, And soon there's only us. Out'a nowhere comes the fragrance Of heady mountain dew. Smoke rolling in an old wood stove, As it dances up the flue. As I fall back to Laredo, The chain gang hammers ring, I Taste dust from Georgia cotton fields, As my harp begins to sing. And then I hear his banjo, I sense his presence near, Oh God, I loved this music, That only I can hear. While in my head we're playing And truly harmonize. It must be close to perfect, Tears mist my weathered eyes. Again, we play together, Just like it used to be. For only I now know the songs I learned at Daddy's knee....
Enter Author Name (Not Required)