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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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Long ago, long a-gone. The world was a fickle mistress. The snowstorm was a white reaper, who uprooted the lame, and washed its white coat every winter. The heatwave was a sweeping hatchet. Even a clear sky could mean doom. Long ago, long a-gone. The early man was born. He outlasted many, and outsmarted all, and created much. Long ago, long a-gone. A connection between one universe and another was born. Only...that connection was not real. We lean on the time-bomb of mass extinction, begging for forgiveness. We laugh, we yell, we blame, we forgive, we dream. But what does that matter? We had a chance. A chance to break the clock. A chance to break the malady of repetitive, monotonous throbs of ardor, the mantra of the will to spread asinine songs of meaningless joy to an empty void. Long ago, long a-gone. The world was a fickle mistress. The snowstorm was a white reaper, who uprooted the lame, and washed its white coat every winter. Every winter it was the same thing. A white coat turned red in minutes The heatwave was a sweeping hatchet. Even a clear sky could mean doom, but who cares? Not man. They died dancing in the hot sand. The bones are but ash. Long ago, long a-gone. The early man was born. He outlasted many, and outsmarted all, and created much. And then he felt joy and screwed it all up. The end.

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Long Ago, Long A-Gone

Long ago, long a-gone. The world was a fickle mistress. The snowstorm was a white reaper, who uprooted the lame, and washed its white coat every winter. The heatwave was a sweeping hatchet. Even a clear sky could mean doom. Long ago, long a-gone. The early man was born. He outlasted many, and outsmarted all, and created much. Long ago, long a-gone. A connection between one universe and another was born. Only...that connection was not real. We lean on the time-bomb of mass extinction, begging for forgiveness. We laugh, we yell, we blame, we forgive, we dream. But what does that matter? We had a chance. A chance to break the clock. A chance to break the malady of repetitive, monotonous throbs of ardor, the mantra of the will to spread asinine songs of meaningless joy to an empty void. Long ago, long a-gone. The world was a fickle mistress. The snowstorm was a white reaper, who uprooted the lame, and washed its white coat every winter. Every winter it was the same thing. A white coat turned red in minutes The heatwave was a sweeping hatchet. Even a clear sky could mean doom, but who cares? Not man. They died dancing in the hot sand. The bones are but ash. Long ago, long a-gone. The early man was born. He outlasted many, and outsmarted all, and created much. And then he felt joy and screwed it all up. The end.