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
Squirrels and Hounds
The squirrel’s hell is, for the hound, heaven. And the rain, thunder, which flatten leaven, Quench also the thirst of blossom’d flowers. Tears spring forth joyful, in equal power With grief and lost hope. Mourning by morning, laughing and crying Roller coaster emotions’ living, dying. The hurt exquisite, the joy so fleeting, My soul stretched to infinities meeting. I scream, then exhale. My body's aches match (not coincident) My emotional sickness, my heart, wrent. Banshees know nothing of petulant need Neither love, nor hate, apathy nor grief. Booming, silent wails. Solitude unwell, come crowded alone. Ghosts of my childhood clatter cobblestoned. No comfort at home, no respite abroad Nor friends to be hugged, nor embrace from God. Here Angels don't tread. There is suff’ring, if that be your call. Joy if you can find it, and pain for all. Be well, Carnival, vale carne ist (Maybe flesh diseased can loosen my fist) There is naught to hit. Overwhelmed, insane, yet reason sustain’d I watch myself fall, stricken, weeping, chain’d, Alacrit to my lost indifference. Four parts breath, and two parts belligerence Pyrrhic victories, celebrat’d alone. So I am squirrel, and somewhere there's hound, Their heaven my hell, and for me they bound, Joyfully chasing this frail, timid beast No trees up to climb to escape the feast. The only way out… Is through.
Copyright © 2025 Matthew Wetter. All Rights Reserved