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
The Crossing
Cresting the rise, a glare in his eyes. Squinting as sharp shards of sun reflect off the river. His gloved hand instinctively shadows his face. Dust in the wind, talcum powder thin coating, caressing, coloring grass, leaves, cowboys and cattle all shades of sepia and cocoa brown. The river is low, the current slow. A turtle shell mound of mud, mid-stream, rutted by thousands of hooves. Punchers pause, stirrup deep, the Cimarron soaking up through their souls. Memories flood without warning just like this river, Swollen and swift, it sends cattle crashing, thrashing, slashing. The kid, that’s all anyone knew him as, just “The Kid”, hung up under his longhorn-punctured pony, was buried amidst those sycamores. He never did see the Kansas plains. Shifting in his saddle, blinking away the vision, the rider’s breath catches in his chest. A daydream? Mirage? Or shadows of the past, lingering, where once they crossed the Cimarron on the Chisholm Trail? Mopping the dust from his forehead, he rides on, leaving the past to itself. Jeff Hildebrandt © 2005
Copyright © 2024 Jeff Hildebrandt. All Rights Reserved

Book: Reflection on the Important Things