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
There was a young man named Anton, who lived back in the seventies, he wasn’t the type to fit in, felt outcast from society. Never got along with others, and didn’t enjoy playing sports, his parent’s said, “Just get out more.” It was for his good, they’re exhort. But like so many introverts Anton thought that the world was wrong, that most people ran with the herd, they conformed, they weren’t all that strong. He glorified the fact that he didn’t go along with the trends, and slowly developed hatred for all the ‘ordinary’ men. It’s a path that we know too well, even now in this modern age, and Anton’s father worked a lot, barely saw his son on most days. So Anton just drifted further, dabbling with some occult books, not just some stupid Ouiji Board, quite deeply did young Anton look. And when his mother went to France to go visit her relatives, she brought Anton along with her, quite a trip for a teenage kid. During the long weeks in Paris the teen went to explore the town, and found there an antique bookshop, he spent hours looking around. In it he found, in tattered tomes, books claiming that they taught magic, thinking he’d hit on a gold mine he got them down, bought them up quick. The shopkeeper just rolled his eyes, he’d tried to sell that junk for years, if some young fool would pay for them then what was there for him to fear? It turned out there was quite a lot, though nobody knew it back then, since these books were not forgeries, carried knowledge of ancient men. And thought it took Anton some time to learn ancient French and Latin, by the time he finished college the books yielded secrets to him. They told him the ways of magic, of dark powers men could call on, at first he thought it just a joke, but believed the words before long. Who, back then, would write books this long, back when paper was quite pricey? That did not make much sense to him, so Anton decided to see. He ingested ingredients, strange herbs, and cruel insects that sting, he tattooed sigils in his skin, and called upon all dark beings. It started with some little things, moving cups with waves of his hand, electric glows on his fingers, leaping higher than a man could stand. But power corrupts everything, and he was corrupt from the start, Anton was an easy target with resentment deep in his heart. He began shooting bolts of light, vaporized a dog to practice, at a bar he once waved a hand shattering a young woman’s wrist... CONTINUES IN PART II.

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

Why There Are No More Sorcerers, Part I

There was a young man named Anton, who lived back in the seventies, he wasn’t the type to fit in, felt outcast from society. Never got along with others, and didn’t enjoy playing sports, his parent’s said, “Just get out more.” It was for his good, they’re exhort. But like so many introverts Anton thought that the world was wrong, that most people ran with the herd, they conformed, they weren’t all that strong. He glorified the fact that he didn’t go along with the trends, and slowly developed hatred for all the ‘ordinary’ men. It’s a path that we know too well, even now in this modern age, and Anton’s father worked a lot, barely saw his son on most days. So Anton just drifted further, dabbling with some occult books, not just some stupid Ouiji Board, quite deeply did young Anton look. And when his mother went to France to go visit her relatives, she brought Anton along with her, quite a trip for a teenage kid. During the long weeks in Paris the teen went to explore the town, and found there an antique bookshop, he spent hours looking around. In it he found, in tattered tomes, books claiming that they taught magic, thinking he’d hit on a gold mine he got them down, bought them up quick. The shopkeeper just rolled his eyes, he’d tried to sell that junk for years, if some young fool would pay for them then what was there for him to fear? It turned out there was quite a lot, though nobody knew it back then, since these books were not forgeries, carried knowledge of ancient men. And thought it took Anton some time to learn ancient French and Latin, by the time he finished college the books yielded secrets to him. They told him the ways of magic, of dark powers men could call on, at first he thought it just a joke, but believed the words before long. Who, back then, would write books this long, back when paper was quite pricey? That did not make much sense to him, so Anton decided to see. He ingested ingredients, strange herbs, and cruel insects that sting, he tattooed sigils in his skin, and called upon all dark beings. It started with some little things, moving cups with waves of his hand, electric glows on his fingers, leaping higher than a man could stand. But power corrupts everything, and he was corrupt from the start, Anton was an easy target with resentment deep in his heart. He began shooting bolts of light, vaporized a dog to practice, at a bar he once waved a hand shattering a young woman’s wrist... CONTINUES IN PART II.