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 I shall take my morning walk, communing with the birds and talking to myself while reading Kafka, glancing at the latest headlines. Dear Stravinsky's 'Rite' is slighted, (he'll return when ears are righted.) When I smell a rose I'm prompted to recall a certain lady, gifted with a new perception, I must sadly take exception, for the moment anyway. The chill of morning, people yawning, I am tired, the blush of dawning has me feeling ill at ease, my spirit sags, I barely reach the second floor. 'When will you return? Is Paris so much more than you have here?' is my unanswered question. I drag my heels to breakfast, listless as a lazy dog, and nibble toast, my countenance as pallid as a ghost. A letter would be welcomed. I shall miss you; there, I've said it. I am your friend, are you not mine? Tenuous and strained, two casual acquaintances who share so little time, we brush elbows, like strangers passing on a platform, sharing sidelong glances, afraid to say hello. I watch you as you go. Others swore we would be close, peas in a pod, familiar. Instead there is no warmth, not yet. Were you to try we might combine and nibble toast together, and take a walk, your hand in mine, and stammer conversation 'til we knew there was no reason e'er to rue. I shall sit with pleasant thoughts of you. Desperate, I ponder on your death, scant breath expended twixt the two of us, and loneliness an ache too harsh to mention, pen in hand and no one to subscribe. I'll scarce recall the softness of your skin, or search your heart to find what lies within. Should I be bold, or take a gentler path? encourage you... would I incur your wrath? If you were to die I'd never know your truth, and I should lose the vigour of my youth.
Enter Author Name (Not Required)