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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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Endless train whistles, At the limits of one's hearing, Never farther away, Seemingly never, ever nearing... Sirens shrill screech, At times of their own choosing, The pulse of mountain winds, Never gaining, never losing, Honking winged geese, A satire of city cabs?, In cloud bound nature's streets, Small planes coming and going, In a parade of me wondering, but, never knowing, Where they might have come from, And where they now are going... Abandoned homes, Abandoned dreams, Stars sparkle in a mockery of fate, Who was the last to leave that home? And what might have been the date? Will bears soon be wandering down city streets, Perhaps shopping for a new coat? Wild dogs in packs attacking anything? The bray of feeding goats? My silent snores go unappreciated now, There's no one to say "Good Night", The body aches, my will it strains, I have no one to share my pains... Empty pockets stress my hope, It takes all my will to cope, Where has everybody gone to? Has everyone gone to the moon? I await my turn to join them, I pray it will be coming soon... Or am I left here to guard the past? For me to be the very last? To witness what the fates have cast? To experience decay first hand, Through the hour glass's ebbing sand, How pointless time does then stand, Not like a full head of hair.. But a single, lone strand? Me, the lone keeper of times no more, As giant machines still hum busily, No one now to know their purposes, now or then for sure.... And now you must go too... I wonder, I wonder, What I will do? Alone, books and ink, My sole companions till my ship does finally sink? I eye the rifle in the corner... Maybe the rules God will bend... If I use it as my ticket to tranquility, For, at least, my pain to end? Yes, at its worst, No more pain... Sure it is forbidden, But reasons to live seem to drain... No one to say Goodnight to, No one to say Good Morn... No one to hear me question... Why I was ever born... To those who complain of pressures, Of work, of family.... Could sit in my chair, eyes opened... And see what I can see... I'd work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, And enjoy every responsibility, To care for friends and family... & work 60 hours a week, & feel the difference, Paycheck but a bonus, And, see & gain a new point of reference, And from that very day, You'll see the value of your life, In a very, very, new way.

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Night Sounds / Night Thoughts

Endless train whistles, At the limits of one's hearing, Never farther away, Seemingly never, ever nearing... Sirens shrill screech, At times of their own choosing, The pulse of mountain winds, Never gaining, never losing, Honking winged geese, A satire of city cabs?, In cloud bound nature's streets, Small planes coming and going, In a parade of me wondering, but, never knowing, Where they might have come from, And where they now are going... Abandoned homes, Abandoned dreams, Stars sparkle in a mockery of fate, Who was the last to leave that home? And what might have been the date? Will bears soon be wandering down city streets, Perhaps shopping for a new coat? Wild dogs in packs attacking anything? The bray of feeding goats? My silent snores go unappreciated now, There's no one to say "Good Night", The body aches, my will it strains, I have no one to share my pains... Empty pockets stress my hope, It takes all my will to cope, Where has everybody gone to? Has everyone gone to the moon? I await my turn to join them, I pray it will be coming soon... Or am I left here to guard the past? For me to be the very last? To witness what the fates have cast? To experience decay first hand, Through the hour glass's ebbing sand, How pointless time does then stand, Not like a full head of hair.. But a single, lone strand? Me, the lone keeper of times no more, As giant machines still hum busily, No one now to know their purposes, now or then for sure.... And now you must go too... I wonder, I wonder, What I will do? Alone, books and ink, My sole companions till my ship does finally sink? I eye the rifle in the corner... Maybe the rules God will bend... If I use it as my ticket to tranquility, For, at least, my pain to end? Yes, at its worst, No more pain... Sure it is forbidden, But reasons to live seem to drain... No one to say Goodnight to, No one to say Good Morn... No one to hear me question... Why I was ever born... To those who complain of pressures, Of work, of family.... Could sit in my chair, eyes opened... And see what I can see... I'd work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, And enjoy every responsibility, To care for friends and family... & work 60 hours a week, & feel the difference, Paycheck but a bonus, And, see & gain a new point of reference, And from that very day, You'll see the value of your life, In a very, very, new way.