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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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I sit here on this wide, stone porch, the farms stretch for many miles, even on sunny days you can sit here and drift for a while… but this is not a day like that, the far horizon tells the tale, a billowing of distant gray, the storm is coming, without fail. The first slow pickup of wind comes, scribes rippled patterns in the wheat, then birds and bugs stop flittering, and to their nests beat a retreat. The looming clouds slowly churn on, air takes a charge, makes the hair prick, you taste it with every drawn breath, it makes the oxygen taste thick. Next comes the first distant rumble, that you can feel as much as hear, you see lighting flicker far off, knowing that soon it will be near, then comes that sudden burst of cold, I think I like that most of all, brings tiny goosebumps to the flesh, heralds of the oncoming fall. The winds are moving faster now, and the tree branches bend and quake, you know some cannot ride it out, and in the maelstrom them will break, hard rain starts coming, picks up quick, pelting everything that it spies, now I’m no fan of getting wet, so I rapidly slip inside. The thunder is now overhead, it’s so damn loud the house vibrates, there’s something in its savagery that I strangely appreciate; when it roars like an angry god, I am reminded that this earth cannot be beat down or controlled, all we’ve made is of little worth, that for all of our great ego, and our illusions on control, mere charged air sends us skittering, and we’re no longer quite so bold… Of course there’s also the beauty of nature painting dark and grim, a short change from the green and blue, I like watching the storms roll in.
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