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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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You came to give me a slap, your arm bent back, with the back of your hand poised to 'shut my trap.' I stood to rebuff you with anger, and schoolboy indignation. How dare you bring reproach when you were so mistaken, accusing 'scruffy' new boy of a smelly body pong - because of race? - because you thought his face did not belong? From Scotland was your reason. I was right that you were wrong. I hated you then and was removed to a lower set. Your obituary surprised me. Your father - 'a blacksmith - and you sniffed, now I remember, quite a bit -your prominent nose gave the nickname of ‘Punch.' 'A firm disciplinarian', you would brook no pupil's lip. But I saw you often quietly slip up the hill during lunch to see your girlfriend in a lay-by, sat waiting for each trip. "No talking! Line up the desks along this floorboard,” you would boom. “Do it quietly!" was your shout. “Now tidy up this room!” You taught maths well and were admired by many, when you retired - through ill health. “I am the old broom and the place needs a new broom. It's just that the old broom still knows where some of the dirt is hid." But especially this: 'He was a big man with presence, smelling badly of carbolic soap, in need of sartorial assistance,' or so it was said.

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Albert E Lawrance

You came to give me a slap, your arm bent back, with the back of your hand poised to 'shut my trap.' I stood to rebuff you with anger, and schoolboy indignation. How dare you bring reproach when you were so mistaken, accusing 'scruffy' new boy of a smelly body pong - because of race? - because you thought his face did not belong? From Scotland was your reason. I was right that you were wrong. I hated you then and was removed to a lower set. Your obituary surprised me. Your father - 'a blacksmith - and you sniffed, now I remember, quite a bit -your prominent nose gave the nickname of ‘Punch.' 'A firm disciplinarian', you would brook no pupil's lip. But I saw you often quietly slip up the hill during lunch to see your girlfriend in a lay-by, sat waiting for each trip. "No talking! Line up the desks along this floorboard,” you would boom. “Do it quietly!" was your shout. “Now tidy up this room!” You taught maths well and were admired by many, when you retired - through ill health. “I am the old broom and the place needs a new broom. It's just that the old broom still knows where some of the dirt is hid." But especially this: 'He was a big man with presence, smelling badly of carbolic soap, in need of sartorial assistance,' or so it was said.