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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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Termites at Christmas They’re just little insects, they were swarming by the hundreds one day, through the backyard, as we sat in lawn chairs, through the portico and on past our faces they flew, the sunlight behind their soft bodies made them appear to be flakes, like ash floating from some unknown fire; the air was warm, my wife’s cousin was perplexed by this sight, she kept commenting that this was a bad thing, I made comment that it was nature on the move, and we should embrace it for what it is. It was Christmas time, my brother, my wife’s cousin’s ex-husband, had just passed away, from this life to the next, he had flown out of our lives, his cancer had eaten him up, finished him off, it was a terrible occurrence for all of us, especially for his new wife. The insects just kept flying by, my wife’s cousin continued to complain and comment, their wings opaque, like dull crystals fluttered quietly, moving in mass, just flying past, as if floating but with purpose. There were two men in the backyard working, they were assembling a large trampoline, a Christmas gift, for my wife’s cousin’s grandchildren, it was her attempt to coerce the children from their electronics that take up so much of their time, of which they spend indoors, the trampoline would liberate and draw them from their screens, give them a reason and purpose to be outside. Their electronics in their hands as they jumped, screamed, talked, laughed, listened to music, and lay on the spongy mat mumbling, their devices right there with them, like security blankets, clutched in hand, safely. The termites, with their precious wings in flutter, seemingly floating, like bubbles in a breeze, their numbers beginning to decrease, their wave of movement, their migration continuing away from here, on through to the next backyard, the next front yard, over the roofs of houses, on to who knows where, looking for another house in which to rest, feed, procreate and die, to continue the cycle that is their lives, they’re just little insects. 1/17/16
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