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
He sat in an old wooden porch swing, Elbows on knees; Salem Menthol burning down. Thinking, smoking, Salems his favorite thing. Fingers colored over time a deep tar brown. Veteran of a war long ago won, Toured Europe in a half track; Battling descendants of the Hun. Never hearing “Fallback men, fallback!” He came back to the hills of north Mississippi, Encumbered not by marriage or job, Feeling triumphant as Antony at Philippi; then Papa reminded him of the crop! Seasonal was his trade, ranging near to far. Picking cotton, pulling corn, hauling hay; maybe in time, money for a beat up car. In 1946 this was the life of Carl Ray. Papa died that year, leaving behind daughters and sons. Carl Ray was the youngest one. The family grew those next few years; many a young ‘un. Carl Ray was alone, but a man, so no tears. Then a young widow came into his life. She as poor as he but the perfect fit. Within a year Carl Ray had a wife. Nannie loved his intelligence and dry wit. Another year and after much luck, A beautiful red headed son of buck. For Carl Ray the middle years flew. His work was hard, his pleasures few. But on Saturday always the same, Work, burgers and a baseball game. Scant few hours for father and son, But Carl loved Saturday’s, every one! Years flew by and as is often the case Tobacco to his body laid waste. For Salem’s will never be a friend. Death came painfully and slow, The red haired man whispering: “It’s okay Daddy, I’m here, so you can go.”

Enter Author Name (Not Required)

Move Text:

Heading Text

Color:

Main/Poem Text

Color:

Background Position Alignment:
LeftCenterRight | TopCenterBottom

Tall Bkgds
Wide Bkgds

Upload Image:

Fit to HeightFit to Width

10mb max file size

Use Internet Image:

Fit to HeightFit to Width

Like: https://www.poetrysoup.com/images/ce_Finnaly_home_soare.jpg

Layout: TallShort

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

Carl Ray

He sat in an old wooden porch swing, Elbows on knees; Salem Menthol burning down. Thinking, smoking, Salems his favorite thing. Fingers colored over time a deep tar brown. Veteran of a war long ago won, Toured Europe in a half track; Battling descendants of the Hun. Never hearing “Fallback men, fallback!” He came back to the hills of north Mississippi, Encumbered not by marriage or job, Feeling triumphant as Antony at Philippi; then Papa reminded him of the crop! Seasonal was his trade, ranging near to far. Picking cotton, pulling corn, hauling hay; maybe in time, money for a beat up car. In 1946 this was the life of Carl Ray. Papa died that year, leaving behind daughters and sons. Carl Ray was the youngest one. The family grew those next few years; many a young ‘un. Carl Ray was alone, but a man, so no tears. Then a young widow came into his life. She as poor as he but the perfect fit. Within a year Carl Ray had a wife. Nannie loved his intelligence and dry wit. Another year and after much luck, A beautiful red headed son of buck. For Carl Ray the middle years flew. His work was hard, his pleasures few. But on Saturday always the same, Work, burgers and a baseball game. Scant few hours for father and son, But Carl loved Saturday’s, every one! Years flew by and as is often the case Tobacco to his body laid waste. For Salem’s will never be a friend. Death came painfully and slow, The red haired man whispering: “It’s okay Daddy, I’m here, so you can go.”