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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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She was sitting on the edge of the bar stool Not wearing anything but her wings. I found it curious that no one else seemed to want a peek and I could not stop peeking. “What will you have?” the bartender asked. She was a short, mean-looking, lined woman. Her face had x’s and stars like the palm of an old hand. “I ummmmmmmm…..I……..” My mind went blank. The faerie laughed. Not a tinkling, sparkly, cutesy laugh But the laugh of a trucker who had smoked a thousand Lucky’s. How a fog-horn oldster laugh like that could come out of something With such a lovely backside like that, I will never know. I caught her eye, and she said, “Have a Bud Lite.” “Bud Light,” I said, as if my mind had mushed itself. A brown bottle was plunked down in front of me Seconds later, minus lid. If I had wanted it in the bottle, I would have brought my own. “Eight dollars,” said the bartender. What? I was askance! I was not trying to pay income tax or anything. Just buy a beer. Which I figured should have cost around sixty-three cents. “Give her a tip,” the faerie said. Her voice was lovely this time. I looked at her, and she winked. She had the most remarkable blue eyes. Suddenly wanting to impress her, I gave the bartender a twenty And my traitorous mouth said “Keep the change.” What the H? The bartender brought me another bottle, plunked it down And said, “Eight dollars.” I did not dare look at the faerie. I looked down, at my hands. “I did not order another one,” I said. Weakly, ineffectively, unsure of myself now. The faerie laughed. “Mom, this one’s on me,” she said. I was suddenly in a terrific mood again. “This is your mom?” I said. She nodded her golden curls, and I fell in love with those blue eyes. “Time to go,” Mr. Sandbottom whispered. “You have had your wish.” In seconds I was out on the sidewalk, myself, again, an ordinary woman. “How was it being a man?” He asked me. “Did you like it?” “Strange in many ways,” I told him. “Familiar in others.” I heard the faerie’s harsh, cold, fog-horn laugh, which had no effect now.

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Wish For a Day Was Granted

She was sitting on the edge of the bar stool Not wearing anything but her wings. I found it curious that no one else seemed to want a peek and I could not stop peeking. “What will you have?” the bartender asked. She was a short, mean-looking, lined woman. Her face had x’s and stars like the palm of an old hand. “I ummmmmmmm…..I……..” My mind went blank. The faerie laughed. Not a tinkling, sparkly, cutesy laugh But the laugh of a trucker who had smoked a thousand Lucky’s. How a fog-horn oldster laugh like that could come out of something With such a lovely backside like that, I will never know. I caught her eye, and she said, “Have a Bud Lite.” “Bud Light,” I said, as if my mind had mushed itself. A brown bottle was plunked down in front of me Seconds later, minus lid. If I had wanted it in the bottle, I would have brought my own. “Eight dollars,” said the bartender. What? I was askance! I was not trying to pay income tax or anything. Just buy a beer. Which I figured should have cost around sixty-three cents. “Give her a tip,” the faerie said. Her voice was lovely this time. I looked at her, and she winked. She had the most remarkable blue eyes. Suddenly wanting to impress her, I gave the bartender a twenty And my traitorous mouth said “Keep the change.” What the H? The bartender brought me another bottle, plunked it down And said, “Eight dollars.” I did not dare look at the faerie. I looked down, at my hands. “I did not order another one,” I said. Weakly, ineffectively, unsure of myself now. The faerie laughed. “Mom, this one’s on me,” she said. I was suddenly in a terrific mood again. “This is your mom?” I said. She nodded her golden curls, and I fell in love with those blue eyes. “Time to go,” Mr. Sandbottom whispered. “You have had your wish.” In seconds I was out on the sidewalk, myself, again, an ordinary woman. “How was it being a man?” He asked me. “Did you like it?” “Strange in many ways,” I told him. “Familiar in others.” I heard the faerie’s harsh, cold, fog-horn laugh, which had no effect now.