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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.

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I've always loved lizards, which explains a lot, My youth spent exploring what others would not. Our days at the park would find me in pursuit Of speedy blue bellies (in long dry swim suit.) A butterfly net I'd adapt for the chase Or plastic container I grabbed any place. Good days I might catch me as many as sev'n, As close as a boy comes to being in heav'n. And then in the Peace Corps I found love again, With African lizards, the Chameleon. The locals had told me they were poisonous But their colored patterns for me were a plus, Ignored black folk wisdom as if in a dream, My penchant for lizards, it still reigned supreme. I became a wizard in the local mind, When perched on my shoulder was what they maligned. The more I collected, the more to extol, Some small ones with three horns thrilled me to my soul. A brown skinny one that resembled a stick, Their catching a meal a spectacular trick. A bug that had been there, now isn't you see, Though small as an ant or as big as a bee. It's scanning, nonsynchronous, eyes lock on prey, Brief bulge in it's throat, now an insect entree. Chameleon weakness is that it's so slow, And crossing a road can cause problems I know, For most of the time that is how they are caught, The color of pavement is something they're not. It's not a bad life for most leave them alone, The forest floor hides them with plants overgrown, The legend is told if you see them embrace, Prepare for long life, for that's just what you face! But king of them all, well, I called him Mzee,* A quite splendid fellow I miss to this day, His green iridescent, on dirt mottled brown, I swear that no other would dare take his crown. A full eighteen inches from head to his tail, His tongue almost two feet, I never saw fail, When angry, a pattern - bright yellow, brown, black, No doubt in my mind why folks feared his attack. The horn on his nose was outstandingly long, And hisses of warning were his only song. His color transition from tranquil to mad, Took less than ten seconds which I thought was rad. But feeding my lizards soon became a chore, Live grasshoppers just can’t be bought in a store, My letting them go was the right thing to do, And I found new dreams just as good to pursue. August 8, 2014 * In Swahili, Mzee (pronounced M zay' is a formal greeting of respect of a younger man to an older man, like Good afternoon Sir! in English.

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The Man Who Loved Lizards

I've always loved lizards, which explains a lot, My youth spent exploring what others would not. Our days at the park would find me in pursuit Of speedy blue bellies (in long dry swim suit.) A butterfly net I'd adapt for the chase Or plastic container I grabbed any place. Good days I might catch me as many as sev'n, As close as a boy comes to being in heav'n. And then in the Peace Corps I found love again, With African lizards, the Chameleon. The locals had told me they were poisonous But their colored patterns for me were a plus, Ignored black folk wisdom as if in a dream, My penchant for lizards, it still reigned supreme. I became a wizard in the local mind, When perched on my shoulder was what they maligned. The more I collected, the more to extol, Some small ones with three horns thrilled me to my soul. A brown skinny one that resembled a stick, Their catching a meal a spectacular trick. A bug that had been there, now isn't you see, Though small as an ant or as big as a bee. It's scanning, nonsynchronous, eyes lock on prey, Brief bulge in it's throat, now an insect entree. Chameleon weakness is that it's so slow, And crossing a road can cause problems I know, For most of the time that is how they are caught, The color of pavement is something they're not. It's not a bad life for most leave them alone, The forest floor hides them with plants overgrown, The legend is told if you see them embrace, Prepare for long life, for that's just what you face! But king of them all, well, I called him Mzee,* A quite splendid fellow I miss to this day, His green iridescent, on dirt mottled brown, I swear that no other would dare take his crown. A full eighteen inches from head to his tail, His tongue almost two feet, I never saw fail, When angry, a pattern - bright yellow, brown, black, No doubt in my mind why folks feared his attack. The horn on his nose was outstandingly long, And hisses of warning were his only song. His color transition from tranquil to mad, Took less than ten seconds which I thought was rad. But feeding my lizards soon became a chore, Live grasshoppers just can’t be bought in a store, My letting them go was the right thing to do, And I found new dreams just as good to pursue. August 8, 2014 * In Swahili, Mzee (pronounced M zay' is a formal greeting of respect of a younger man to an older man, like Good afternoon Sir! in English.