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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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Exactly five years ago I lived in a city that I named as the city of my struggles quite an imposing brand you would say but I found it appropriate in my mid-twenties. I crawled against my inertia to move dragging myself outside everyday. At exactly half past eight in the morning I would hop on a bus to my workplace I could recognize every face in there perhaps I seemed mundane to them too. I tried to look for novel pictures relaxing on my fixed window seat peeping out to find traces of another world. Just before a lazy traffic signal the bus screeched loudly at a stop cars puffed smoke groaning more than their owners the cacophony seemed unbearable. On the opposite side stood a building seemed ancient but echoed with giggles. My eyes always paused at a window marked by mauve dahlias visible from the pane spraying hope on whoever smiled at them. The owner was an old man perhaps in his fifties watering them with all the love he could. He glanced once or twice at me as if protecting his darling dahlias I laughed and the bus moved to my destination I forgot about them in my hectic day. Then at exactly half past six at dusk the bus sighed at the same stop . The dahlias lighted by lilac sunset smiled at me to revive me with joy, behind them was a proud bookshelf. The old man next to them with his book caught me red-handed staring at his dahlias then laughed at my sheepish grin and waved. I waved back to the gentle old man and this became our routine for the next four years. On melancholic days he waved them at me in joyous moments he greeted with a smile. Then my struggles in that city came to an end I moved to another place forgetting that trend. One day I paid a visit to someone in that neighbourhood the building no longer seemed to echo laughter someone said it had been ablaze before the rain no casualties since the residents had been evacuated safely. I hopped on the same bus and saw the broken window from where the old man used to wave at me. A memoir of my diary in days of vain now symbolized by a forgotten windowpane, but I noticed something else to make me smile a tendril with a single mauve dahlia crept from a moist wall reaching the old man's broken windowpane. Perhaps something in that corner had been left for me a fragment of the frayed phases in my journey. ~~A memory from my map May 30, 2020 BRIAN'S CHOICE 11,any form,any theme contest Winner: First Place

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Dahlias In Windowpane

Exactly five years ago I lived in a city that I named as the city of my struggles quite an imposing brand you would say but I found it appropriate in my mid-twenties. I crawled against my inertia to move dragging myself outside everyday. At exactly half past eight in the morning I would hop on a bus to my workplace I could recognize every face in there perhaps I seemed mundane to them too. I tried to look for novel pictures relaxing on my fixed window seat peeping out to find traces of another world. Just before a lazy traffic signal the bus screeched loudly at a stop cars puffed smoke groaning more than their owners the cacophony seemed unbearable. On the opposite side stood a building seemed ancient but echoed with giggles. My eyes always paused at a window marked by mauve dahlias visible from the pane spraying hope on whoever smiled at them. The owner was an old man perhaps in his fifties watering them with all the love he could. He glanced once or twice at me as if protecting his darling dahlias I laughed and the bus moved to my destination I forgot about them in my hectic day. Then at exactly half past six at dusk the bus sighed at the same stop . The dahlias lighted by lilac sunset smiled at me to revive me with joy, behind them was a proud bookshelf. The old man next to them with his book caught me red-handed staring at his dahlias then laughed at my sheepish grin and waved. I waved back to the gentle old man and this became our routine for the next four years. On melancholic days he waved them at me in joyous moments he greeted with a smile. Then my struggles in that city came to an end I moved to another place forgetting that trend. One day I paid a visit to someone in that neighbourhood the building no longer seemed to echo laughter someone said it had been ablaze before the rain no casualties since the residents had been evacuated safely. I hopped on the same bus and saw the broken window from where the old man used to wave at me. A memoir of my diary in days of vain now symbolized by a forgotten windowpane, but I noticed something else to make me smile a tendril with a single mauve dahlia crept from a moist wall reaching the old man's broken windowpane. Perhaps something in that corner had been left for me a fragment of the frayed phases in my journey. ~~A memory from my map May 30, 2020 BRIAN'S CHOICE 11,any form,any theme contest Winner: First Place