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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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Farewell old pard, I write this letter to you. Well, I guess I’ll saddle up and ride out with my new pard, he’s only a colt at three. He’s a real beauty, a real eye pleaser and sure of foot with a cutting pedigree. I’ll go on out to the rough country where the sky is blue, relive the old times and try to work the rope a bit, so I won’t be thinking of you. We were pards for many a year and we both tote the scars to show and that cold back you had fairly tossed me hard every morning before you’d make up your mind to go. But we never shared a cross word that ever meant much among friends, Though, you did take a few hard comments when you got ornery now and then. We purt- near worked in all kinds of weather, rain, snow and even a blizzard or two. We shared our misery out on the plains when the cold winds off the mountain blew. We’ve covered a lot of country, any closer, I don’t guess any pards could be and though you weren’t much to look at, it never meant much to me. You loved your job and worked it well with light rains and leg ques. And there were times when you led the way, and I took my ques from you. You were not a natural cutter, but you weren’t scared of bulls, cows or steer and you worked the tight spots eagerly, never showing the jitters of fear. We were pards, alright, never just a way to get the job done nor pleasure for me, You loved it too, riding the open range with only the basics that kept us wild and free. Why did you go and leave me, you just laid down in your stall and I was left alone. I tell my stories and old pard, I tell yours too, since you’ve checked out and gone. I look back through the years as I sit here looking over the grass growing high on the range. How love for a horse can feel so right is hard for this cowboy to explain. I can’t help but riminess’ and wonder, were there times you just didn’t feel quite well? You always took to the saddle and in my selfish way, I never cared to ask, and you didn’t tell We’d ride out and pretty- soon, you seemed glad you came along and there were times we trailed in late, long after the sun had gone. But now I look back on the past and sentimental thoughts tears my eyes and burden me. Good-by old pard from your old friend, you were the best any pard could be.

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Fare-Well Ole Pard

Farewell old pard, I write this letter to you. Well, I guess I’ll saddle up and ride out with my new pard, he’s only a colt at three. He’s a real beauty, a real eye pleaser and sure of foot with a cutting pedigree. I’ll go on out to the rough country where the sky is blue, relive the old times and try to work the rope a bit, so I won’t be thinking of you. We were pards for many a year and we both tote the scars to show and that cold back you had fairly tossed me hard every morning before you’d make up your mind to go. But we never shared a cross word that ever meant much among friends, Though, you did take a few hard comments when you got ornery now and then. We purt- near worked in all kinds of weather, rain, snow and even a blizzard or two. We shared our misery out on the plains when the cold winds off the mountain blew. We’ve covered a lot of country, any closer, I don’t guess any pards could be and though you weren’t much to look at, it never meant much to me. You loved your job and worked it well with light rains and leg ques. And there were times when you led the way, and I took my ques from you. You were not a natural cutter, but you weren’t scared of bulls, cows or steer and you worked the tight spots eagerly, never showing the jitters of fear. We were pards, alright, never just a way to get the job done nor pleasure for me, You loved it too, riding the open range with only the basics that kept us wild and free. Why did you go and leave me, you just laid down in your stall and I was left alone. I tell my stories and old pard, I tell yours too, since you’ve checked out and gone. I look back through the years as I sit here looking over the grass growing high on the range. How love for a horse can feel so right is hard for this cowboy to explain. I can’t help but riminess’ and wonder, were there times you just didn’t feel quite well? You always took to the saddle and in my selfish way, I never cared to ask, and you didn’t tell We’d ride out and pretty- soon, you seemed glad you came along and there were times we trailed in late, long after the sun had gone. But now I look back on the past and sentimental thoughts tears my eyes and burden me. Good-by old pard from your old friend, you were the best any pard could be.