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 Ah Frontiera, here we are at your last, you've thrown a rod, your life lies black on oily ground - all this snow and you're a mobile no longer; so I must walk. It's cold, and now I think of it, that cold that exists in enormous reservoirs at the poles of our world, seemingly to pass back and forth between, as if through a secret conduit as the seasons are unfurled. I will relax, I tell myself, "become one with the cold" as if it can't hurt me, because sometimes you have to tell yourself things in order to survive. My soliloquy proceeds as I gather thin paper birch branches and fashion them into snowshoes with rawhide strings from my pack, a woefully empty pack considering where I must go - the Brooks Range, even in October, is no joke - and I can make it to a trapper's cabin, south south-west near Lake Chandalar. Like the Inupiat Eskimos, I will sing my song, make up my tale, and live on. Garlock, lord of this valley, seven feet of branch-breaking, tree-scarring, log-rolling, stump-pulling black bear might, looks up, for the wind was behind me and his nose is ever aware; my prayer - "You've eaten well, for your winter sleep comes soon, you are not hungry enough for me" - I repeat it with calm confidence; Praise God - noble king Garlock, this time, gives me a pass. Two hundred miles, "Can I make it in three weeks, can I stay alive for four," I wonder as I walk, as I fish - pike, char; hard-fought with my hook, still the grayling cooks on my fire - with a few remaining blueberries I find for spice; over mountain pass, near the gorge's bottom, a rocky ledge, a rare stumbled caribou with broken legs, my knife finishes it, oh how warm and rich the liver. Over the blue cold of a nameless glacier - half the planet's glaciers are in Alaska, that blue in summer melting is half of all water flowing into all the seas; I exist with the cold, I'm only a part-day's travel from the trapper's cabin now. Click-thunk! I hear it before my leg is alive with pain; I've stepped on a trap. The evening's grim descent doubles and redoubles - I laugh or cry. Will I bleed, will I freeze, or will my life just vanish into shock, tucked into the ever-colder onset of night. Trapper, when will you next check your traps? December 21, 2016 For Shadow Hamilton's contest - 'Epic'
Enter Author Name (Not Required)