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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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I stepped up to the plate, with my old, familiar stance, thinking my set routine, would parry the pitcher’s prance. The first was a curved ball, curiously spun with such intrigue. I watched it drift in, then away, off the plate. A ball! The next was a fast-ball, right on line. I swung too early, too locked up in dreams, Convinced I was right, as ever, this time! A Strike! Being right on line. It ain't divine! I saw the third pitch dip out of the hand, I flinched with doubt, opting out, I folded. It was a knuckle ball! I bailed too fast — Missed the moment, let it pass! Strike 2! A slider sent, brought my memories to the fore, I thought back to what I'd done before. When the ball leather smelled so fresh. Sure enough a Hit, but alas, a Foul. The fifth came cloaked in abject silence. No wind, no banter, just hollow air. I was frozen out, by the silent treatment, Left waiting, waiting, burning insane. I swung too late! Phew! Ball 2! Then came the soft one, slow and low, a change-down thrown, as pitcher sunk low — with eyes half-closed, head bowed, in a sorta 'It's ME Time' trance! A hit! It soared, the crowd went wild — A Home run for the inner child! Now my stance, is more tuned, more still, more considered. Reading each pitch as it comes, not too heartfelt nor willful. Not naming the pitch, nor predicting it, just knowing when to wait, to bend and meld, to get an even break.

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The Batter Gets in the Game

I stepped up to the plate, with my old, familiar stance, thinking my set routine, would parry the pitcher’s prance. The first was a curved ball, curiously spun with such intrigue. I watched it drift in, then away, off the plate. A ball! The next was a fast-ball, right on line. I swung too early, too locked up in dreams, Convinced I was right, as ever, this time! A Strike! Being right on line. It ain't divine! I saw the third pitch dip out of the hand, I flinched with doubt, opting out, I folded. It was a knuckle ball! I bailed too fast — Missed the moment, let it pass! Strike 2! A slider sent, brought my memories to the fore, I thought back to what I'd done before. When the ball leather smelled so fresh. Sure enough a Hit, but alas, a Foul. The fifth came cloaked in abject silence. No wind, no banter, just hollow air. I was frozen out, by the silent treatment, Left waiting, waiting, burning insane. I swung too late! Phew! Ball 2! Then came the soft one, slow and low, a change-down thrown, as pitcher sunk low — with eyes half-closed, head bowed, in a sorta 'It's ME Time' trance! A hit! It soared, the crowd went wild — A Home run for the inner child! Now my stance, is more tuned, more still, more considered. Reading each pitch as it comes, not too heartfelt nor willful. Not naming the pitch, nor predicting it, just knowing when to wait, to bend and meld, to get an even break.