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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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Four blocks down from 'Cheeter’s Bar’ - where Mother’d earned her living - me an’ little brother, Cody, stood behind her casket, Listening to the feigned remorse of disconcerted patrons who shared a common question - but were terrified to ask it. The funeral’d started right at sunset...Deacon John presided, and being a sultry Sunday evening, most the town was there. Despite her promiscuity - which plenty o’ folks resented - couldn’t o’ been no more than fifty folks that wasn’t there. Mother’d never said for sure, and likely never knew, which of those she’d - been with - were our dads...we’ve never known, And none had made a gesture yet to learn if we was theirs - now that she had passed away and left us on our own. Cody always claimed I looked the most like Dusty Baker, an’ I’d 've bet a dollar - out of all o’ Mother’s guys - Cyrus Becker had to be the only guy she’d ‘known’ from whom he could'a got his pointy jaw and emerald eyes. Now, I’d been 12 for 18 days and Cody’d just turned 9, an’ we’d been doin’ fine thus far without no proper dad, So weren’t no need for anyone we knew, or didn’t know, to help us through what we perceived as bein’ -- ‘not that bad!’ Mom had left us all she’d saved - owed nobody money - and I’d got good at farmin’, mendin’ clothes, and makin’ meals, So when it comes to - ‘livin’ hard’...folks worse off than us are gonna have to be the ones to tell ya’ how that feels. Stuck with working nights of course, on every day but Sunday, Mom ‘ld spend at least an hour workin’ on our brains, And what I’ve said - and - what I’m going to’s - what the situation both my little brother and I are in today explains. Ain’t too many people haven’t heard a tale or two matchin’ up, in certain ways, with me an’ Cody’s plights, But this one’s pretty diff’rent, friend. Now both in our thirties...thanks to one who sold her soul to earn her money nights, Twelve of her best regulars - believing we were theirs - willed us - when they passed away - huge amounts of cash, And twixt us 2, we now control 90,000 acres, thanks to someone many'd felt was nothing short of trash! All we’ve ever felt is ‘LOVE’ when thoughts of Mom appear, remembering her devotion when we see her pretty face, And who’d have guessed so many men would allocate so much appeasing guilty consciences, and do so --- just in case?

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Just In Case

Four blocks down from 'Cheeter’s Bar’ - where Mother’d earned her living - me an’ little brother, Cody, stood behind her casket, Listening to the feigned remorse of disconcerted patrons who shared a common question - but were terrified to ask it. The funeral’d started right at sunset...Deacon John presided, and being a sultry Sunday evening, most the town was there. Despite her promiscuity - which plenty o’ folks resented - couldn’t o’ been no more than fifty folks that wasn’t there. Mother’d never said for sure, and likely never knew, which of those she’d - been with - were our dads...we’ve never known, And none had made a gesture yet to learn if we was theirs - now that she had passed away and left us on our own. Cody always claimed I looked the most like Dusty Baker, an’ I’d 've bet a dollar - out of all o’ Mother’s guys - Cyrus Becker had to be the only guy she’d ‘known’ from whom he could'a got his pointy jaw and emerald eyes. Now, I’d been 12 for 18 days and Cody’d just turned 9, an’ we’d been doin’ fine thus far without no proper dad, So weren’t no need for anyone we knew, or didn’t know, to help us through what we perceived as bein’ -- ‘not that bad!’ Mom had left us all she’d saved - owed nobody money - and I’d got good at farmin’, mendin’ clothes, and makin’ meals, So when it comes to - ‘livin’ hard’...folks worse off than us are gonna have to be the ones to tell ya’ how that feels. Stuck with working nights of course, on every day but Sunday, Mom ‘ld spend at least an hour workin’ on our brains, And what I’ve said - and - what I’m going to’s - what the situation both my little brother and I are in today explains. Ain’t too many people haven’t heard a tale or two matchin’ up, in certain ways, with me an’ Cody’s plights, But this one’s pretty diff’rent, friend. Now both in our thirties...thanks to one who sold her soul to earn her money nights, Twelve of her best regulars - believing we were theirs - willed us - when they passed away - huge amounts of cash, And twixt us 2, we now control 90,000 acres, thanks to someone many'd felt was nothing short of trash! All we’ve ever felt is ‘LOVE’ when thoughts of Mom appear, remembering her devotion when we see her pretty face, And who’d have guessed so many men would allocate so much appeasing guilty consciences, and do so --- just in case?