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
Every night at a pub, I see her, the girl with the blond hair and blue eyes, a beauty to behold. Her gaze draws me in, and I can’t help but steal glances. If you ask me what are the eyes They were the first eyes I ever saw I can see the heavens in them, a glimpse of something beyond this world. She drinks and she dances, laughing with friends and shouting out loud, “I don’t miss you!” she proclaims. She seems so happy, so carefree. But as the night wears on, and the pub closes its doors, I find her sitting alone, tears streaming down her face. I ask her why she’s sad, but she only sobs, “I don’t know, I don’t know”. And I wonder what demons haunt her when the lights go out, and the night grows cold. For every night at a pub, I see her, the girl with the beautiful eyes, and I know that she’s more than just the drinks and the dance, the shouts and the tears. She’s a mystery, a wonder, and I’m drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She works in a post office, a place of mundane tasks, Sorting letters, delivering mail, a routine she fulfills. But there’s a spark in her eyes, a light that shines bright, A warmth in her smile, that touches all who she meets. I visit her sometimes, to catch up on night life’s tales, Sharing stories of the night’s mysterious veil. She laughs and says “Really?”, Her laughter like music, an enchanting score. In the evening, I see her by the beach, jogging with grace, A silhouette against the sunset’s golden rays. Her feet pound the sand, a rhythm of her heart, A warrior from the start. And as the sun dips below the horizon, she appears again, A fairy fish, dancing away into the depths of the pub. The day is done, and the night comes calling, I see her smile, her laughter, her light never falling. And then the dark midnight. She is a poem of Eliot, elusive and enigmatic, A masterpiece of words, waiting to be read. Her lines are like puzzles, waiting to be solved, A labyrinth of meanings, waiting to be led. Each time I read her, a new layer unfolds, A deeper understanding, waiting to be found. Her words are like whispers, hiding in the silence, A treasure trove of secrets, waiting to be unbound.

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

She Is a Poem of Eliot

Every night at a pub, I see her, the girl with the blond hair and blue eyes, a beauty to behold. Her gaze draws me in, and I can’t help but steal glances. If you ask me what are the eyes They were the first eyes I ever saw I can see the heavens in them, a glimpse of something beyond this world. She drinks and she dances, laughing with friends and shouting out loud, “I don’t miss you!” she proclaims. She seems so happy, so carefree. But as the night wears on, and the pub closes its doors, I find her sitting alone, tears streaming down her face. I ask her why she’s sad, but she only sobs, “I don’t know, I don’t know”. And I wonder what demons haunt her when the lights go out, and the night grows cold. For every night at a pub, I see her, the girl with the beautiful eyes, and I know that she’s more than just the drinks and the dance, the shouts and the tears. She’s a mystery, a wonder, and I’m drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She works in a post office, a place of mundane tasks, Sorting letters, delivering mail, a routine she fulfills. But there’s a spark in her eyes, a light that shines bright, A warmth in her smile, that touches all who she meets. I visit her sometimes, to catch up on night life’s tales, Sharing stories of the night’s mysterious veil. She laughs and says “Really?”, Her laughter like music, an enchanting score. In the evening, I see her by the beach, jogging with grace, A silhouette against the sunset’s golden rays. Her feet pound the sand, a rhythm of her heart, A warrior from the start. And as the sun dips below the horizon, she appears again, A fairy fish, dancing away into the depths of the pub. The day is done, and the night comes calling, I see her smile, her laughter, her light never falling. And then the dark midnight. She is a poem of Eliot, elusive and enigmatic, A masterpiece of words, waiting to be read. Her lines are like puzzles, waiting to be solved, A labyrinth of meanings, waiting to be led. Each time I read her, a new layer unfolds, A deeper understanding, waiting to be found. Her words are like whispers, hiding in the silence, A treasure trove of secrets, waiting to be unbound.