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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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Booker MaCline stared out with his young eyes at the rolling hills and trees of great sizes, West Virginia’s landcape, so much different, the plane ride here every dollar had spent. It was quieter then old Chicago, who's slums for eighteen years had been his home, he knew no one here, but he’d made the trip, giving both family and gangbangers the slip. Between his brother taunting the police, his mother’s drinking, coming home on her knees, a filthy high school with more drugs than books, he’d left at first chance, not a second look. He couldn’t believe it had come to pass, that he could leave behind all of it so fast, but he needed a home, and needed work, so he picked up a flier, started his search. Within a week he had rented a room and found a nightshift job pushing a broom at a local farm machine dealership, his boss promised he could advance though it. A year later Booker worked in their shop, learning as he went from an old man called ‘Pops’ until he could rebuilt all of the machines, refurbish them ’till they were running clean. Two more years and old Pops had retired, Booker ran the shop, kept tractors fired, with a big bump in pay he bought a house, and a new pickup, raised high of the ground. He was now skilled labor, in high demand, for local farmers he was the go-to man, when he had the dough he bought a franchise, now selling his own, hard work riding high. And of course this brought the opposite sex, three years of dating, then he did connect with a petite red-head, worked as a nurse, he could find no better, tired of the worse. It was their engagement which brought on back the chaos of old that he was glad to lack, his brother came out to meet the new wife, and with his came all the drama and strife… Malcolm MaCline came to his brother’s house, sniffed and said,”So you're living here now? Going on eight years with barely a word, and this is what you have been doing brother?” Malcolm sighed heavily, then he just scoffed, Booker said,”Sounds like you picked up a cough.” His brother scowled,”I’m ashamed of you, and it’s farm time you hear some words that are true. “This little house and this dull, redneck life, the way that you dress, your damn honky wife, you act like them, but you’ll never be one, you’re a fool whose forgotten where he came from! CONTINUES IN PART II.

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Forgetting Where You Came From, Part I

Booker MaCline stared out with his young eyes at the rolling hills and trees of great sizes, West Virginia’s landcape, so much different, the plane ride here every dollar had spent. It was quieter then old Chicago, who's slums for eighteen years had been his home, he knew no one here, but he’d made the trip, giving both family and gangbangers the slip. Between his brother taunting the police, his mother’s drinking, coming home on her knees, a filthy high school with more drugs than books, he’d left at first chance, not a second look. He couldn’t believe it had come to pass, that he could leave behind all of it so fast, but he needed a home, and needed work, so he picked up a flier, started his search. Within a week he had rented a room and found a nightshift job pushing a broom at a local farm machine dealership, his boss promised he could advance though it. A year later Booker worked in their shop, learning as he went from an old man called ‘Pops’ until he could rebuilt all of the machines, refurbish them ’till they were running clean. Two more years and old Pops had retired, Booker ran the shop, kept tractors fired, with a big bump in pay he bought a house, and a new pickup, raised high of the ground. He was now skilled labor, in high demand, for local farmers he was the go-to man, when he had the dough he bought a franchise, now selling his own, hard work riding high. And of course this brought the opposite sex, three years of dating, then he did connect with a petite red-head, worked as a nurse, he could find no better, tired of the worse. It was their engagement which brought on back the chaos of old that he was glad to lack, his brother came out to meet the new wife, and with his came all the drama and strife… Malcolm MaCline came to his brother’s house, sniffed and said,”So you're living here now? Going on eight years with barely a word, and this is what you have been doing brother?” Malcolm sighed heavily, then he just scoffed, Booker said,”Sounds like you picked up a cough.” His brother scowled,”I’m ashamed of you, and it’s farm time you hear some words that are true. “This little house and this dull, redneck life, the way that you dress, your damn honky wife, you act like them, but you’ll never be one, you’re a fool whose forgotten where he came from! CONTINUES IN PART II.