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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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required As we sit in the car my sister, mother, father, and me steam rises off our rain-sodden clothes and the air fills with the smell of damp coats and wet sheep. I 'spect; I'll never smell sheep wet or dry. Or see one; other than as we pass by; from the window of our shiny red car. "They look just like clouds," I say "Silly boy, clouds on the ground?" Dad replies They could have dropped there, I think to myself. As we sit in the car my sister, mother, father, and me I make tracks on wet glass and watch as small dewdrops race down steamy damp windows. I 'spect; I'll never, ever, ever play in the sand I can see from the window, so close. "The rain looks just fine to me; I can build us a moat," I say "you'll catch your death," mum replies. Whatever that means, I think to myself. As we sit in the car my sister, mother, father, and me I've run out of animals beginning with D vegetables beginning with Q and minerals that start with U. I 'spect; I'll never reflect at my funny self in the hall of weird mirrors again; just in this stupid old window. "I'm ever so hungry; can I have something to eat?" I say. "What do you say?" My sister replies. I do not say, but please, I think to myself. As we sit in the car my sister, mother, father, and me wind-driven rain against the windscreen, the car filling with smoke from my mother's cigarettes. I 'spect; I'll never see my friends ever again just be in this car for always and ever staring out of this window. "Who'll feed our dog when they find us all dead?" I say. "What?" My sister, mum, and dad reply. You'll be sorry; when they find us, I think to myself.
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