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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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Like the early morning mists That rise from the waters’ depths Memories emerge in swirls and twists Foggy shadows of lives past Of them all, childhood scenes outlast ‘Membrances of dear, familiar faces and Fragmented moments of particular places Emotions retrieved from those distant spaces. Of my family, I do recall My mom and dad most of all For by the time I came along, My only sibling had grown and gone. My brother knew our parents when they were in their prime, and then I came, much later in the span of time. My arrival changed the course of their Tamed and settled ways, Eroded away the edges of predictability, Stirred up the easy flow of their days, and I’m told, Challenged everyone’s sensibility. The truth is likely not so dramatic Although, we all could be a bit theatric. My father and uncles sat for hours at our house Argued and joked, cussed and smoked Lamented the damnable things politicians do. Then over cribbage and coffee, they’d list All the best ways of snagging a fish. From captured bits of conversation I suspect, as were others of his generation, Dad was a “roustabout” in his youthful days In my recollection, though, he was our defender and a regular “Jack of all Trades.” With the men around, my Momma stayed in the background- Busy always with domestic chores Cooking, cleaning, laundry and more Injecting a flair for the lovely into her everyday life, Seemingly content in her role as housewife. Doing for others brought her great joy The fruits of her labor did others enjoy Surrounded by close friends, My momma did shine Social activities filled her free time: Fancy luncheons, music shows, quilting bees, Bible studies and bowling leagues. Memories can be such hazy things. Images of loved ones blur with time; yet, with clarity, through the vapor, I still see My parents’ hands, worn frail and thin, Their journey’s trials traced upon their skin In their touch, though strong from life’s hard labors, They softly held my babies safely in their arms, and I knew that love was foremost in their nature. Like the early morning mists That rise from the waters’ depths Memories emerge in swirls and twists Enveloping me in love and devotion.

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Like the Early Morning Mists

Like the early morning mists That rise from the waters’ depths Memories emerge in swirls and twists Foggy shadows of lives past Of them all, childhood scenes outlast ‘Membrances of dear, familiar faces and Fragmented moments of particular places Emotions retrieved from those distant spaces. Of my family, I do recall My mom and dad most of all For by the time I came along, My only sibling had grown and gone. My brother knew our parents when they were in their prime, and then I came, much later in the span of time. My arrival changed the course of their Tamed and settled ways, Eroded away the edges of predictability, Stirred up the easy flow of their days, and I’m told, Challenged everyone’s sensibility. The truth is likely not so dramatic Although, we all could be a bit theatric. My father and uncles sat for hours at our house Argued and joked, cussed and smoked Lamented the damnable things politicians do. Then over cribbage and coffee, they’d list All the best ways of snagging a fish. From captured bits of conversation I suspect, as were others of his generation, Dad was a “roustabout” in his youthful days In my recollection, though, he was our defender and a regular “Jack of all Trades.” With the men around, my Momma stayed in the background- Busy always with domestic chores Cooking, cleaning, laundry and more Injecting a flair for the lovely into her everyday life, Seemingly content in her role as housewife. Doing for others brought her great joy The fruits of her labor did others enjoy Surrounded by close friends, My momma did shine Social activities filled her free time: Fancy luncheons, music shows, quilting bees, Bible studies and bowling leagues. Memories can be such hazy things. Images of loved ones blur with time; yet, with clarity, through the vapor, I still see My parents’ hands, worn frail and thin, Their journey’s trials traced upon their skin In their touch, though strong from life’s hard labors, They softly held my babies safely in their arms, and I knew that love was foremost in their nature. Like the early morning mists That rise from the waters’ depths Memories emerge in swirls and twists Enveloping me in love and devotion.