Home » Poems » Poetry Art » Poetry Art / Greeting Card Maker

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.

Text
Layout
Background

Enter Title (Not Required)

Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required
An old Point Man phoned, “Do ya think you can do it?. Driving doggies and cows from the flanks of Mt. Stewart?" Fattened on grass for a year they had stayed. “Move a river of horns down to Yakima Quay?” I ride for the brand, (vaqueros are soldiers!). “Startin’ when?” I asked while I slurped on my Folger's. “End of the week. We'll see you at camp? Teanaway Forks, above 44 Ranch.” I readied my tack, my bedroll and saddle And a pony picked out I could trust in the battle. She knew what she faced, the dust and the sun And those ill-mannered beef just ready to run. Drove my Gimmy and trailer up Gunny Sack Hill And a left at Cle Elum , 'long the river until I got into Roslyn , saw its graveyard beyond, Unhitched and I gathered my thoughts in the dawn. Ya’see, the #4 Mine blew out in ‘09 And, all dated the same, ten graves lay in line. Each man skipped the Army to work underground Found eternal peace and never were found. Twenty got out, when the fan house she blew From an explosion of black damp allowed to accrue. Ten lives disappeared in the dust and the fumes And in the dark they were buried like in Brigadoon. “No danger” said the ranger. We'd checked in at his shack, So we followed the creek called the Salmon LaSac. Then switched-back a wall up the Cascadian face, Rose to the ridgetop, then quickened our pace . Across scree covered side slopes the moon to our back Now east of the mountains, snow on our track. But morning revealed in its dim welcome glow. The Teanaway River, amid knotwood and oaks. We pulled up in tandem and took in the site, A satisfied nicker, a break from the night. While memories returned to the beauty once seen, The Teanaway Valley in autumn, a dream. In the high mountain cirque it’s born from the snow Feeding bunchgrass and clover in the meadows below Thru sunshine and shadow, it wanders along and chatters and riffles on its course like a song. It’s a song for the larks, for the heavenly choirs, It’s sings for the homesteads and cattle and miners, That tune brings a blessing from my ears to my soul. A song from a valley that’s never been spoiled. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Teanaway_River Dedicated to the memory of Marty Robbins

Enter Author Name (Not Required)

Move Text:

Heading Text

Color:

Main/Poem Text

Color:

Layout: TallShort

www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry

Teanaway Valley

An old Point Man phoned, “Do ya think you can do it?. Driving doggies and cows from the flanks of Mt. Stewart?" Fattened on grass for a year they had stayed. “Move a river of horns down to Yakima Quay?” I ride for the brand, (vaqueros are soldiers!). “Startin’ when?” I asked while I slurped on my Folger's. “End of the week. We'll see you at camp? Teanaway Forks, above 44 Ranch.” I readied my tack, my bedroll and saddle And a pony picked out I could trust in the battle. She knew what she faced, the dust and the sun And those ill-mannered beef just ready to run. Drove my Gimmy and trailer up Gunny Sack Hill And a left at Cle Elum , 'long the river until I got into Roslyn , saw its graveyard beyond, Unhitched and I gathered my thoughts in the dawn. Ya’see, the #4 Mine blew out in ‘09 And, all dated the same, ten graves lay in line. Each man skipped the Army to work underground Found eternal peace and never were found. Twenty got out, when the fan house she blew From an explosion of black damp allowed to accrue. Ten lives disappeared in the dust and the fumes And in the dark they were buried like in Brigadoon. “No danger” said the ranger. We'd checked in at his shack, So we followed the creek called the Salmon LaSac. Then switched-back a wall up the Cascadian face, Rose to the ridgetop, then quickened our pace . Across scree covered side slopes the moon to our back Now east of the mountains, snow on our track. But morning revealed in its dim welcome glow. The Teanaway River, amid knotwood and oaks. We pulled up in tandem and took in the site, A satisfied nicker, a break from the night. While memories returned to the beauty once seen, The Teanaway Valley in autumn, a dream. In the high mountain cirque it’s born from the snow Feeding bunchgrass and clover in the meadows below Thru sunshine and shadow, it wanders along and chatters and riffles on its course like a song. It’s a song for the larks, for the heavenly choirs, It’s sings for the homesteads and cattle and miners, That tune brings a blessing from my ears to my soul. A song from a valley that’s never been spoiled. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Teanaway_River Dedicated to the memory of Marty Robbins