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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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Beneath Bruised Skies The wind, a ghost with an unseen hand, Whips grit and dust across the Oklahoma land. It carries the smell of ozone, sharp and cold, A story whispered, ancient, bold. You feel its tug, a constant plea, A playful push, then suddenly, A heavy cloak of pressure drops, As every buzzing insect stops. The sky turns bruised, a sickly green, A painted canvas, rarely seen. The air grows thick, a metal taste Of fear, a moment held in haste. Then distant rumble, low and deep, Like giants stirring from their sleep. The sound of sirens, a mournful wail, As funnel clouds begin to sail. A twisting finger, dark and grand, Tearing through the heart of the land. Houses splinter, timber flies, Beneath the terror in the skies. Yet, in the wake, a silence falls, Broken by the lone bird's calls. A strange calm follows, soft and low, As if the earth begins to glow. And here's the truth, etched in the scars: Oklahoma, beneath these stars, Learns resilience from the gale, A strength that tells a timeless tale. For every structure ripped and torn, A deeper bond is bravely born. The wind may rage, the sky may weep, But hope and spirit, here, run deep. It's not just terror, wild and free, But a testament to what we can be.

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Beneath Bruised Skies

Beneath Bruised Skies The wind, a ghost with an unseen hand, Whips grit and dust across the Oklahoma land. It carries the smell of ozone, sharp and cold, A story whispered, ancient, bold. You feel its tug, a constant plea, A playful push, then suddenly, A heavy cloak of pressure drops, As every buzzing insect stops. The sky turns bruised, a sickly green, A painted canvas, rarely seen. The air grows thick, a metal taste Of fear, a moment held in haste. Then distant rumble, low and deep, Like giants stirring from their sleep. The sound of sirens, a mournful wail, As funnel clouds begin to sail. A twisting finger, dark and grand, Tearing through the heart of the land. Houses splinter, timber flies, Beneath the terror in the skies. Yet, in the wake, a silence falls, Broken by the lone bird's calls. A strange calm follows, soft and low, As if the earth begins to glow. And here's the truth, etched in the scars: Oklahoma, beneath these stars, Learns resilience from the gale, A strength that tells a timeless tale. For every structure ripped and torn, A deeper bond is bravely born. The wind may rage, the sky may weep, But hope and spirit, here, run deep. It's not just terror, wild and free, But a testament to what we can be.