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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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GREEN DAY – revisited Although the following poetic/prosaic material written January eighteenth two thousand and eighteen, I came across these encapsulated, enclosed, encoded, and encrusted with barnacle clad body electric of my trademark crafted gobbledygook today January third two thousand and twenty three. Though the heyday and stellar popularity didst long since wane, I still enjoy listening to select song titles (to many for listing here along this virtual boulevard of broken dream) of this iconic Punk Rock band unique rapid fire machine gun punctuated trademark style still induces goosebumps IF only because my eldest daughter used to be a rabid fan. She even voluntarily recruited this papa (and asked me in her coy, diminutive, earnestly irresistible purring kitty cat demeanor if yours truly could taxi herself, and one or more best buddies, (whom she keeps in regular communication to this Green Day) to the the theatrical performance “American Idiot” being shown on Broadway. Hence I rented a vehicle, and nervously hightailed into the core of the Big Apple for the first time in my hermetically sealed seminarian like sequestered life. Unsure at the present status of this three (?) member all male musician troupe (with a moderate sized following at the zenith of their renown i.e. with quite a motley crue of groupies to boot), nonetheless at the height of fame and fortune experienced by said trio, a spurious whim spurred this middle aged chap to jot down his feelings of unbridled affinity toward said talented three person creative young men within a poetic format (left unmodified only if there appeared a typographical error, or an ambiguous awkward outdated word arrangement) will be appended below. Billie Joe Armstrong, Mike Dirnt, and Tre Cool, which trio known (the world wide web over) as the band Green Day composed lyrics and melodies this listener did imbibe analogous to downing musical fuel no matter the lead singer supposedly never graduated from high school, yet raw bits of primal utterance approximated immense talent galore, which excessive indulgence with amber liquids of the dogs or flagrant downing consciousness expanding material filled the airwaves of soundstage and/or studio with snapping, popping, and crackling rhythmic synchronicity evoking images of warm from a Yule tide burning log. I (a common, easy going, generic kid, a garden variety and generic American Idiot) spent childhood years practicing the piano, which tickling the ivory (way before realization brought to my attention, how elephants illegally poached and slaughtered), for shear sporting whim pounded the keys with vigor and vim speculated at how dissimilar mine fate, would possibly be if dedication sustained to be a self driven task master while mollycoddling the baby grand, perchance me billfold and financial accounts would not be extremely paltry and slim reflected then and now, on one of those “what if...could a, should a would a...” hypothetical queries and wonders When Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening if Robert Frost enshrined and rim mem bored viz signature ruminating about “The Road Not Taken” might fancy himself joining a seminary (rather peculiar though from an atheist) obeying behavioral edicts (with no discipline required from “religious fathers”proper and prim, hence baring the habit as a nun in a convent chances negligible to him i.e. me, yet...all those mewing kitties will more closely match my anthem but un-natural suppression sans animal, carnal, feral...predilections finds thoughts quickly being dismissed cuz of such restrained celibacy codas, and even preferring to be dangling (literally), and holding on for dear life from a rather straggly limb even clinging with diminishing strength resorting to contriving a rip public kin battle Hymn knowing likelihood (When I Come Around) for immediate salvation grim er ring, and fading outlook Whatsapp eared dim getting anxious, and minimally cautiously optimistic that When September Ends piercing me (a Basket Case) flesh with pellets of cold rain grip upon the slippery bark will induce greater anguish emotional pain unsure if mine demise will be a cometh, as grim reaper doth gain another mortal, whose life cut short will induce a gaping hole within thy family chain.

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GREEN DAY revisited

GREEN DAY – revisited Although the following poetic/prosaic material written January eighteenth two thousand and eighteen, I came across these encapsulated, enclosed, encoded, and encrusted with barnacle clad body electric of my trademark crafted gobbledygook today January third two thousand and twenty three. Though the heyday and stellar popularity didst long since wane, I still enjoy listening to select song titles (to many for listing here along this virtual boulevard of broken dream) of this iconic Punk Rock band unique rapid fire machine gun punctuated trademark style still induces goosebumps IF only because my eldest daughter used to be a rabid fan. She even voluntarily recruited this papa (and asked me in her coy, diminutive, earnestly irresistible purring kitty cat demeanor if yours truly could taxi herself, and one or more best buddies, (whom she keeps in regular communication to this Green Day) to the the theatrical performance “American Idiot” being shown on Broadway. Hence I rented a vehicle, and nervously hightailed into the core of the Big Apple for the first time in my hermetically sealed seminarian like sequestered life. Unsure at the present status of this three (?) member all male musician troupe (with a moderate sized following at the zenith of their renown i.e. with quite a motley crue of groupies to boot), nonetheless at the height of fame and fortune experienced by said trio, a spurious whim spurred this middle aged chap to jot down his feelings of unbridled affinity toward said talented three person creative young men within a poetic format (left unmodified only if there appeared a typographical error, or an ambiguous awkward outdated word arrangement) will be appended below. Billie Joe Armstrong, Mike Dirnt, and Tre Cool, which trio known (the world wide web over) as the band Green Day composed lyrics and melodies this listener did imbibe analogous to downing musical fuel no matter the lead singer supposedly never graduated from high school, yet raw bits of primal utterance approximated immense talent galore, which excessive indulgence with amber liquids of the dogs or flagrant downing consciousness expanding material filled the airwaves of soundstage and/or studio with snapping, popping, and crackling rhythmic synchronicity evoking images of warm from a Yule tide burning log. I (a common, easy going, generic kid, a garden variety and generic American Idiot) spent childhood years practicing the piano, which tickling the ivory (way before realization brought to my attention, how elephants illegally poached and slaughtered), for shear sporting whim pounded the keys with vigor and vim speculated at how dissimilar mine fate, would possibly be if dedication sustained to be a self driven task master while mollycoddling the baby grand, perchance me billfold and financial accounts would not be extremely paltry and slim reflected then and now, on one of those “what if...could a, should a would a...” hypothetical queries and wonders When Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening if Robert Frost enshrined and rim mem bored viz signature ruminating about “The Road Not Taken” might fancy himself joining a seminary (rather peculiar though from an atheist) obeying behavioral edicts (with no discipline required from “religious fathers”proper and prim, hence baring the habit as a nun in a convent chances negligible to him i.e. me, yet...all those mewing kitties will more closely match my anthem but un-natural suppression sans animal, carnal, feral...predilections finds thoughts quickly being dismissed cuz of such restrained celibacy codas, and even preferring to be dangling (literally), and holding on for dear life from a rather straggly limb even clinging with diminishing strength resorting to contriving a rip public kin battle Hymn knowing likelihood (When I Come Around) for immediate salvation grim er ring, and fading outlook Whatsapp eared dim getting anxious, and minimally cautiously optimistic that When September Ends piercing me (a Basket Case) flesh with pellets of cold rain grip upon the slippery bark will induce greater anguish emotional pain unsure if mine demise will be a cometh, as grim reaper doth gain another mortal, whose life cut short will induce a gaping hole within thy family chain.