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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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On a sunny day in late September we were on our way to Runswick Bay, on a walk that we gladly remember, meeting people on the Cleveland Way. Assorted folk with the same idea taking in distant views over the sea, a gentle breeze, the far horizon clear, nearby hips and haws bright on bush and tree. Whoever you meet, just what do you say? Should it be ”Hi!” or rather “Hello!”? Is it “Good morning” or maybe “Good day?” If they greet me first I go with the flow. Whatever is said may offer a clue, tell you something about the other, whether there is further chat to pursue or just some remarks about the weather. Having arrived we sat by the beach eating our sandwiches watched by some dogs and seagulls, waiting to swoop or to reach for tasty morsels, whatever drops. After a paddle to refresh my feet, there were four and a half miles to return to Sandsend for our walk to complete. First there were steps to climb by the burn, passing more people too breathless to greet; grateful to pause we let them pass by with a nod or wave – but wished for a seat! There at the top a gate was held wide by a couple with smiles to wave us through. We paused as I stretched my cramp to ease also to remove a stone from my shoe; then onward we trod refreshed by the breeze. Off the cliff face using the updraught fulmars glided scanning the sea below. Retracing our steps, features we'd passed informed us how far we still had to go. High on his combine, late harvest to reap the farmer raised his hand as we stopped, paused to pick blackberries more sharp than sweet. Speckled wood butterflies near to us dropped. At last we came to more steps to descend, holding the rail as these tested our knees. Pausing again with views of Sandsend and spray from breakers whipped up by the breeze. Back at the car there was salt on the screen. Time to examine my blistered feet and to doze awhile, pondering the cuisine of Whitby and just what we might eat: Scampi and whitebait with too many chips, cans of ginger beer to ease it all down, observed by gulls we looked at the ships that brought our supper to this port of renown. * * * We count our blessings that we were able to escape to the coast for refreshment before Covid restrictions on travel could prevent a day of enjoyment.

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To Runswick Bay

On a sunny day in late September we were on our way to Runswick Bay, on a walk that we gladly remember, meeting people on the Cleveland Way. Assorted folk with the same idea taking in distant views over the sea, a gentle breeze, the far horizon clear, nearby hips and haws bright on bush and tree. Whoever you meet, just what do you say? Should it be ”Hi!” or rather “Hello!”? Is it “Good morning” or maybe “Good day?” If they greet me first I go with the flow. Whatever is said may offer a clue, tell you something about the other, whether there is further chat to pursue or just some remarks about the weather. Having arrived we sat by the beach eating our sandwiches watched by some dogs and seagulls, waiting to swoop or to reach for tasty morsels, whatever drops. After a paddle to refresh my feet, there were four and a half miles to return to Sandsend for our walk to complete. First there were steps to climb by the burn, passing more people too breathless to greet; grateful to pause we let them pass by with a nod or wave – but wished for a seat! There at the top a gate was held wide by a couple with smiles to wave us through. We paused as I stretched my cramp to ease also to remove a stone from my shoe; then onward we trod refreshed by the breeze. Off the cliff face using the updraught fulmars glided scanning the sea below. Retracing our steps, features we'd passed informed us how far we still had to go. High on his combine, late harvest to reap the farmer raised his hand as we stopped, paused to pick blackberries more sharp than sweet. Speckled wood butterflies near to us dropped. At last we came to more steps to descend, holding the rail as these tested our knees. Pausing again with views of Sandsend and spray from breakers whipped up by the breeze. Back at the car there was salt on the screen. Time to examine my blistered feet and to doze awhile, pondering the cuisine of Whitby and just what we might eat: Scampi and whitebait with too many chips, cans of ginger beer to ease it all down, observed by gulls we looked at the ships that brought our supper to this port of renown. * * * We count our blessings that we were able to escape to the coast for refreshment before Covid restrictions on travel could prevent a day of enjoyment.