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
If ever you were taken from me, The sun would rise in mourning black, And birds would fold their wings in shame For mother not to bring you back. The sky would wear your apron soft, The wind would weep your name, And I — a child with broken psalms — Would never speak the same. If ever you were taken from me, No bread would taste, no dream would stay, I’d ask the earth to give you breath, And take my own away. I'd gather all your lullabies And sing them to the moon, So she might rock you back to sleep And keep you coming soon. If ever you were taken from me, I’d find you in the scent of rain, In folded towels, in threads of light, In silence wrapped in pain. I’d keep your slippers by the door, Your comb upon the sill, And speak to chairs like they were you, And hope you'd hear me still. If ever you were taken from me, The prayers would lose their flame, And I’d invent a newer faith That only knows your name. A gospel made of Sunday hair, Of soup, and song, and soap And I would write it every night, In ink made out of hope. If ever you were taken from me, I’d carry on, but less, but slow A ghost in search of your perfume, A heart that doesn’t know How not to beat in sync with yours, How not to wait at noon Like I still do, beneath the clock, For you to come back soon. If ever you were taken from me, The garden would forget to bloom, The kettle would refuse to sing, The house would fill with gloom. And yet—I’d still set out your plate, Still pour your cup of tea, Still hum the songs you used to hum When rocking only me. If ever you were taken from me, I'd wear your voice against my chest, Like talisman or ancient thread That keeps the bones at rest. I’d walk through shops you used to love, Touch soaps you used to buy— Then leave with empty hands again, And wetness in my eye. If ever you were taken from me, No priest could quite translate The language of a child who weeps Outside his mother’s gate. I'd look for you in every cloud, In coins dropped in the street, In women pushing carts of bread With aching, swollen feet. If ever you were taken from me, I’d sew my grief into a shawl, And wear it through each solemn day Until we meet through fall And spring, and dusk, and birth again, When time is done with fear, And all that’s left is mother's touch, Returning soft and near. So if you must be far from me, Beyond the breath, beyond the years, Then carry all my unsaid words Through heaven’s veil of tears. And when I’ll walk that final dusk, Alone, through shadowed skies— Let your warm hand, unseen, reach down And close my weeping eyes.

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

If ever

If ever you were taken from me, The sun would rise in mourning black, And birds would fold their wings in shame For mother not to bring you back. The sky would wear your apron soft, The wind would weep your name, And I — a child with broken psalms — Would never speak the same. If ever you were taken from me, No bread would taste, no dream would stay, I’d ask the earth to give you breath, And take my own away. I'd gather all your lullabies And sing them to the moon, So she might rock you back to sleep And keep you coming soon. If ever you were taken from me, I’d find you in the scent of rain, In folded towels, in threads of light, In silence wrapped in pain. I’d keep your slippers by the door, Your comb upon the sill, And speak to chairs like they were you, And hope you'd hear me still. If ever you were taken from me, The prayers would lose their flame, And I’d invent a newer faith That only knows your name. A gospel made of Sunday hair, Of soup, and song, and soap And I would write it every night, In ink made out of hope. If ever you were taken from me, I’d carry on, but less, but slow A ghost in search of your perfume, A heart that doesn’t know How not to beat in sync with yours, How not to wait at noon Like I still do, beneath the clock, For you to come back soon. If ever you were taken from me, The garden would forget to bloom, The kettle would refuse to sing, The house would fill with gloom. And yet—I’d still set out your plate, Still pour your cup of tea, Still hum the songs you used to hum When rocking only me. If ever you were taken from me, I'd wear your voice against my chest, Like talisman or ancient thread That keeps the bones at rest. I’d walk through shops you used to love, Touch soaps you used to buy— Then leave with empty hands again, And wetness in my eye. If ever you were taken from me, No priest could quite translate The language of a child who weeps Outside his mother’s gate. I'd look for you in every cloud, In coins dropped in the street, In women pushing carts of bread With aching, swollen feet. If ever you were taken from me, I’d sew my grief into a shawl, And wear it through each solemn day Until we meet through fall And spring, and dusk, and birth again, When time is done with fear, And all that’s left is mother's touch, Returning soft and near. So if you must be far from me, Beyond the breath, beyond the years, Then carry all my unsaid words Through heaven’s veil of tears. And when I’ll walk that final dusk, Alone, through shadowed skies— Let your warm hand, unseen, reach down And close my weeping eyes.