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 the photo graphic, 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.


Enter Title (Not Required)

Enter Poem or Quote (Required)

Enter Author Name (Not Required)

Move Text:

Heading Text

       
Color:

Main/Poem Text

       
Color:
Background Position Alignment:
  | 
 

Upload Image: 
 


 
 10mb max file size

Use Internet Image:




Like: https://www.poetrysoup.com/images/ce_Finnaly_home_soare.jpg  
Layout:   
www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry
Song from a Barrel
I’m a ‘bar-back’, I stack, I pull up the crates, unpack and rack. I hump boxes of glasses in, then I hump them out again. I roll barrels into a hand-cranked elevator, then roll the empties into the club cellar where they now lay stinking. The dude who’s supposed to hose them out, has skipped. In this town a citizen was chopped up, and left in a pub barrel; folks are naturally a bit sensitive to beer related cleanliness. I’m fired. Hours later I’m washing dishes at the Canton Buffet… the perpetually angry manager starts yelling at me in Cantonese. There’s a phone call from the guy who is supposed to be hosing down the aluminum beer barrels. He’s in a motel shacked up with the redhead bartender from the ‘Gentleman’s Club.’ She’s a skank, but I see where he might have been tempted. The buffet manager is standing next to me by the wall-phone, his arms are folded, he’s impatiently tapping his toes, while this guy (who I hardly knew), is yapping to me like we are best buds. I can hear the ‘skank’ giggling loudly in the background, the ‘hose guy’ is snickering also, he’s obviously jacked-up on snow. Later, I am fired by the manager of the ‘Cantonese Buffett’. It’s then that I decide to get a real job, and maybe write a little poetry - should have known that was B.S. I find a job, but I’m still hunched over a splatter of words that should have first been hosed down, and despite the choices I could have made, I’ve got to move on to the next unpredictable shift with that redheaded skank I call my Muse.
Copyright © 2020 Eric Ashford. All Rights Reserved