Home » Poems » Poetry Art » Poetry Art / Greeting Card Maker

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.

Text
Layout
Background

Enter Title (Not Required)

Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required
Through the hills within the woods of a mountain's slithering slopes, A road winds its way, on which rides a car driven by a misanthrope. Plucking from his pocket a pack of poison sticks with one hand, To suck the smoke from a cigarette labeled with his favorite brand. From the ashes of the cindered cylinder arises an airy sensation, Which swirls within his head as his body suffers from oxidation. After deciding with an apathetic puff that he'd had enough tobacco, He flicked the cigarette through the open window with an apathetic throw. As he drove he thought of the days to come and of his job and friends he'll see, With the wind in his hair he happily traveled from nine at night to the morning's three. He arrived to his destination: his parent's home for a weekend sojourn, And in his childhood bed he drifted to sleep and awoke at eleven in the morn'. Laughs with loved ones and home-cooked feasts had continued to unravel, During this weekend which he ended with yet another nighttime travel. From the suburbs of the foothills he ascended through to mountain roads, With popping ears he picked with pinkies, producing several waxy loads. Onward through the familiar roads which swerve along the curves of rivers, Which pour from bleeding basins which, to below, their water is delivered. Then, as the sun had settled its golden hue upon the wrinkles of the wooded thick, Darkness spilled atop the forest's feathers to slather its leaves like an oil slick. A sudden cessation of the leaves' silhouettes had slipped the sight of the distracted man, Who, while he drove, had been lost in thought of the snacks he'd make in a frying pan. Then, as the darkness had settled its cimmerian hue upon the naked wooded thick, Flames spilled atop the forest's feathers which slathered its leaves like a lit oil slick. Firetrucks battled the fire as the man stopped his car so he could walk, Towards a volunteer fireman who stood before him to warn of the roadblock. The man asked the firefighter what had caused the scorching of the trees, Acres of woods burnt in smoking condensation which made the man begin to wheeze. The firefighter responded to the man who began to trickle with sweat: "We believe the fire was started by someone's casually flicked cigarette."

Enter Author Name (Not Required)

Move Text:

Heading Text

Color:

Main/Poem Text

Color:

Layout: TallShort

www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry

Flicked Cigarette

Through the hills within the woods of a mountain's slithering slopes, A road winds its way, on which rides a car driven by a misanthrope. Plucking from his pocket a pack of poison sticks with one hand, To suck the smoke from a cigarette labeled with his favorite brand. From the ashes of the cindered cylinder arises an airy sensation, Which swirls within his head as his body suffers from oxidation. After deciding with an apathetic puff that he'd had enough tobacco, He flicked the cigarette through the open window with an apathetic throw. As he drove he thought of the days to come and of his job and friends he'll see, With the wind in his hair he happily traveled from nine at night to the morning's three. He arrived to his destination: his parent's home for a weekend sojourn, And in his childhood bed he drifted to sleep and awoke at eleven in the morn'. Laughs with loved ones and home-cooked feasts had continued to unravel, During this weekend which he ended with yet another nighttime travel. From the suburbs of the foothills he ascended through to mountain roads, With popping ears he picked with pinkies, producing several waxy loads. Onward through the familiar roads which swerve along the curves of rivers, Which pour from bleeding basins which, to below, their water is delivered. Then, as the sun had settled its golden hue upon the wrinkles of the wooded thick, Darkness spilled atop the forest's feathers to slather its leaves like an oil slick. A sudden cessation of the leaves' silhouettes had slipped the sight of the distracted man, Who, while he drove, had been lost in thought of the snacks he'd make in a frying pan. Then, as the darkness had settled its cimmerian hue upon the naked wooded thick, Flames spilled atop the forest's feathers which slathered its leaves like a lit oil slick. Firetrucks battled the fire as the man stopped his car so he could walk, Towards a volunteer fireman who stood before him to warn of the roadblock. The man asked the firefighter what had caused the scorching of the trees, Acres of woods burnt in smoking condensation which made the man begin to wheeze. The firefighter responded to the man who began to trickle with sweat: "We believe the fire was started by someone's casually flicked cigarette."