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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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Footprints by the river’s edge, leading close around the bend, Leave behind the memories of young days that came to end. Whispers on a morning’s breeze have sprung forth from river’s run, They carry the promises of those times still yet to come. Back upon the middle ground lost loves echo through the trees, Yet far beyond windswept plains they are travelling with ease. The pathway through meadows green calls to spirits needing rest, It will lead to comfort zones as the sun sets in the west. Suddenly through murky haze one can hear slow, beating drums, They march out the changing guard that been rebuilding the slums. Silence greets the fallen walls in the darkness of the night; Stain glass windows on the way hold out endless hope for light. Open fields of trampled grain became playgrounds of the lost, Not even the wisest men could begin to count that cost. Now the distant falling rains wash away the ageing deals, While judges turn their blind eyes to the long list of appeals. Standing by the river’s edge, listening to the whispered breeze, I can hear an ancient tongue begging for the Kingdom’s keys. I’m not going anywhere in this burning midday sun; I will wait upon the times which were promised still to come.

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By River's Edge

Footprints by the river’s edge, leading close around the bend, Leave behind the memories of young days that came to end. Whispers on a morning’s breeze have sprung forth from river’s run, They carry the promises of those times still yet to come. Back upon the middle ground lost loves echo through the trees, Yet far beyond windswept plains they are travelling with ease. The pathway through meadows green calls to spirits needing rest, It will lead to comfort zones as the sun sets in the west. Suddenly through murky haze one can hear slow, beating drums, They march out the changing guard that been rebuilding the slums. Silence greets the fallen walls in the darkness of the night; Stain glass windows on the way hold out endless hope for light. Open fields of trampled grain became playgrounds of the lost, Not even the wisest men could begin to count that cost. Now the distant falling rains wash away the ageing deals, While judges turn their blind eyes to the long list of appeals. Standing by the river’s edge, listening to the whispered breeze, I can hear an ancient tongue begging for the Kingdom’s keys. I’m not going anywhere in this burning midday sun; I will wait upon the times which were promised still to come.