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.



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
Where I Go
I lie here watching all the glorious places pass by along my journey. To be sure, my course was set many years ago making my passage measured only in terms of near or far. At times I am lazy. But I call it subdued—my vitality, intensity, and strength fully intact until I am called to stage. When I first began, I used to babble. Then over the course of forever, I couldn’t stop streaming the glee of my growing existence. Everyone noticed and took advantage. Now, that natural calling beckons and I am ready to perform my act in whatever city or town I am in. As the stage is set and the light overhead is dimmed, the heavens open their arms to announce my appearance. Rising to the summons, my new height permits me to better see and observe my audience who anxiously await how I will play out. With the spotlight now on me, I begin to do a slow dance, gradually increasing the natural flow of my movement and using the entire stage. Should I dazzle them with a few spins or whirls, I wonder—those tricks which I have perfected from past visits? No, it does not matter what they think of me, for I will be forgiven as I always am. From their front row perches, the spectators, the viewers, the onlookers judge my movement intently and anticipate my crescendo, ever fearful for a delay. The audience has always marveled at me, sat by my side, and had their souls cleansed by me. I willingly have let them use me to reach their own destiny, ply their trades, or take the bounty that lies within me. You see ours is a mutual benefit, or at least should be, but lately I’ve noticed fewer care as they did before. So reaching this stage allows me to purge some of the impurities which have been cast in my direction; revenge in a way for their poor behavior. I don’t do it out of malice, or hate, or disgust; no, I do it because it is part of my nature and I know I will be forgiven. Beyond the edges of this stage and my immediate audience, I hear gasps of shame and pity and sympathy. Their feelings and worries are of no concern to me, as at this moment I am called to show the power, depth, and energy of my wild dance. Fully I am committed as I wind, twist, snake, and meander all the while viewing my audience up close and trying to gauge their forgiveness. Only then do I notice the terror and sadness in their eyes beseeching me to go away; praying for an empty stage. Nevertheless, I continue to gyrate and roar as I attempt to swoop them into my arms knowing they will be forgiving. Attempts are made to push me away, but I am relentless in my pursuit of them. Few will win the contest between us because, at this stage of my dance, I am an overpowering force. Unstoppable until I have exhausted all the elements which feed my hunger to frolic and rumble on this stage. When I am finished, I will return to my calmer self and once again behave as expected. Because that is what floods do when they die and are forgiven. END
Copyright © 2025 Anthony Mays. All Rights Reserved

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry