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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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Hello all, my name is Raymond, but most folk call me Ray. I’m just your normal bloke, who works bloody hard each day to earn a pay packet, that gets hijacked by my wife; so, Jen controls the finances and keeps me out of strife. Jen claims that I’m a workaholic, and of course she’s right. I grab all the overtime, so get home late at night, and on this occasion, so that this project isn’t fluffed, I had to work past midnight and I’m completely stuffed. And of course, it being very late, and Jen was fast asleep, I had to stumble in the dark, and to our bedroom creep, then quietly pull the sheet aside and slide into our bed, when some time in my slumber, I realized I was dead. I’m staring at the Pearly Gates, and heard St. Peter say ‘you just died in your sleep, so now please enter Ray.’ I stood my ground to protest, and went on the attack; ‘No, I’m too young to die – you’ve got to send me back!’ But death is final for us all, and it’s our spirit that departs. St. Peter spoke in sombre tone about, no chance of restarts, but I broke down ‘my God, I’m way too young to die,’ and St. Peter’s shoulders slumped and he made a gentle sigh. For to see me deeply troubled, made St. Peter realize that even at the Pearly Gates there must be compromise, and he made me an offer, to offset me being stricken; ‘I’ll put you back upon the earth, but only as a chicken.’ I was devastated; beaten – and fell down to my knees as St. Peter gave his best, towards my begging pleas, and the next thing that I knew, after a whooshing sound - I was enclosed with feathers, clucked and pecked the ground. And before me stood big Reginald, the rooster in control, all up for conversation with his welcome for my soul, 'So, you're the new hen, huh? How is your first day here?' And Reg was looking mighty randy, as he sauntered near. ‘Not bad’ was my reply, then went to a defensive mode, 'but have this feeling like I might be going to explode!' Reg crowed ‘Oh, you’re ovulating,’ and then crowed some more, ‘Are you saying that you’ve never laid an egg before?' ‘I never have’ I said to Reg, and calming is his spiel, 'Well, just relax and let it happen, it isn’t a big deal.’ I did, and very shortly, I felt an egg pop out, and now I felt I knew what motherhood was all about. Then I laid another egg to overwhelming bliss, And when about to lay another, something went amiss, for Jan’s screeching out at me, as she wacked me ‘cross the head, ‘Ray wake up, wake up! You’ve gone and pooped the bed!’

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Ray the Chicken

Hello all, my name is Raymond, but most folk call me Ray. I’m just your normal bloke, who works bloody hard each day to earn a pay packet, that gets hijacked by my wife; so, Jen controls the finances and keeps me out of strife. Jen claims that I’m a workaholic, and of course she’s right. I grab all the overtime, so get home late at night, and on this occasion, so that this project isn’t fluffed, I had to work past midnight and I’m completely stuffed. And of course, it being very late, and Jen was fast asleep, I had to stumble in the dark, and to our bedroom creep, then quietly pull the sheet aside and slide into our bed, when some time in my slumber, I realized I was dead. I’m staring at the Pearly Gates, and heard St. Peter say ‘you just died in your sleep, so now please enter Ray.’ I stood my ground to protest, and went on the attack; ‘No, I’m too young to die – you’ve got to send me back!’ But death is final for us all, and it’s our spirit that departs. St. Peter spoke in sombre tone about, no chance of restarts, but I broke down ‘my God, I’m way too young to die,’ and St. Peter’s shoulders slumped and he made a gentle sigh. For to see me deeply troubled, made St. Peter realize that even at the Pearly Gates there must be compromise, and he made me an offer, to offset me being stricken; ‘I’ll put you back upon the earth, but only as a chicken.’ I was devastated; beaten – and fell down to my knees as St. Peter gave his best, towards my begging pleas, and the next thing that I knew, after a whooshing sound - I was enclosed with feathers, clucked and pecked the ground. And before me stood big Reginald, the rooster in control, all up for conversation with his welcome for my soul, 'So, you're the new hen, huh? How is your first day here?' And Reg was looking mighty randy, as he sauntered near. ‘Not bad’ was my reply, then went to a defensive mode, 'but have this feeling like I might be going to explode!' Reg crowed ‘Oh, you’re ovulating,’ and then crowed some more, ‘Are you saying that you’ve never laid an egg before?' ‘I never have’ I said to Reg, and calming is his spiel, 'Well, just relax and let it happen, it isn’t a big deal.’ I did, and very shortly, I felt an egg pop out, and now I felt I knew what motherhood was all about. Then I laid another egg to overwhelming bliss, And when about to lay another, something went amiss, for Jan’s screeching out at me, as she wacked me ‘cross the head, ‘Ray wake up, wake up! You’ve gone and pooped the bed!’