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 for Hank and Nancy Seven thousand acres of grass have faded yellow from his cough. These limp days, his anger, legend forty years from moon to Stevensville, lives on, just barely, in a Great Falls whore. Cruel times, he cries, cruel winds. His geese roam unattended in the meadow. The gold last leaves of cottonwoods ride Burnt Fork creek away. His geese grow fat without him. Same old insult. Same indifferent rise of mountains south, hunters drunk around the fire ten feet from his fence. What's killing us is something autumn. Call it war or fever. You know it when you see it: flare. Vine and fire and the morning deer come half a century to sip his spring, there, at the far end of his land, wrapped in cellophane by light. What lives is what he left in air, definite, unseen, hanging where he stood the day he roared. A bear prowls closer to his barn each day. Farmers come to watch him die. They bring crude offerings of wine. Burnt Fork creek is caroling. He dies white in final anger. The bear taps on his pane. And we die silent, our last days loaded with the scream of Burnt Fork creek, the last cry of that raging farmer. We have aged ourselves to stone trying to summon mercy for ungrateful daughters. Let's live him in ourselves, stand deranged on the meadow rim and curse the Baltic back, moon, bear and blast. And let him shout from his grave for us.
Enter Author Name (Not Required)