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.



Enter Title (Not Required)

Enter Poem or Quote (Required)

Enter Author Name (Not Required)

Move Text:

Heading Text

       
Color:

Main/Poem Text

       
Color:
Background Position Alignment:
  | 
 

Upload Image: 
 


 
 10mb max file size

Use Internet Image:




Like: https://www.poetrysoup.com/images/ce_Finnaly_home_soare.jpg  
Layout:   
www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry
Refections of the Past, Visions of the Future
Day stacks upon day, forming opaque windows behind me. These can be blown away at times, a clarity of vision in momentary glimpses. Here, a face most beloved, turning my bowels to water that reflects pain. There, a scent, sensed so briefly, like a camera flash leaving red dots in my vision. Floods of sensation follow, barely tolerated. Not all are plague days, but pain is recalled far more clearly than pleasure. This savings account of experience makes one rich with character and compassion. Cutting in the details of my sculpture, creating a face with my name. Here, the vertical line between brows, carved by the loss of love. There, the deep dimple in my cheek, where love was found again. Sometimes the brush strokes, the etchings, are strong enough to reach inside with hands of despair, the scalpel that sheds heart's blood or drills deep into bone and brain. That is where your memory lives, my son. No, not anymore in my womb, nor my arms. We cannot know the heights of joy and bliss without the depths of blue sorrow. To allow memory place is in my power to deny. A truth I had to learn. And in the knowing, I am set at liberty, for what can they possibly do to me now? I've paid my dues and fees for sunny weather. The Forcast is bursting with light, packed with windy autumn days, smelling of pumpkin spice, with cozy winter nights and the scent of wood smoke, with the crisp green of growing things and ripe swell of new life. The magic eight ball floats me a perdition… ”outlook good”.
Copyright © 2025 Crystol Woods. All Rights Reserved

Book: Reflection on the Important Things