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)Required The Mountains of Skye The Black Cuillin Mountains of Skye step off into the distance chanting, “Step we gaily, on we go, Heel for heel and toe for toe!” And as they march uniformly forward over 12 kilometres and 11 Munros of sharpened, black-gabbro rock shimmer and spangle in the early light. It is June, and unusually hot! The morning has been up early serving a breakfast of sliced sunshine and frothed cappuccino clouds. Then suddenly, the morning’s lustre has curtsied and moved swiftly away …something is coming…. something threatening and powerful. The Black Cuillin Mountains know it, the valleys and inhabitants know it through changes in light, alterations in pressure or perhaps a signal from a curl of a breeze that had suddenly stopped curling. All cease breathing and looked skywards! Yes an immense storm has arrived, a great kraken now rumbles the sky, thrown up from the deep seas to confront and to do battle! It is here to dominate and pulverize, It is here to mangle and strangle the very life out of these majestic mountains and its surrounding court. The kraken isn’t here to pay homage; it is here to cause destruction! But the Black Cuillins are a match for any such storm, these mountains have stood proud for 60 million years, never flinching, never cowering…they know the game of life. So they make their mark, crouch their stance….and wait. Suddenly a thundered fist of rage smashes into the Cuillins with immense potency and soon a sharpened wind cuts across the slopes cleaving and slicing at will. Now torrents of metalled rain pound in all directions, saturating the land, flooding the ditches, deluging the slopes while thunder and lightning orchestrate attack after relentless attack. For hours, the storm rips across the pummelled landscape until eventually it is… just spent and spills down the hills in a slide of defeat to eventually slither lifelessly back into the sea. The mountains and valleys survey the aftermath noting the scars and disfigurements they bear: fissures of rock, broken trees, torn flowers, flooded ditches, smashed birds’ nests and more. Then from all directions life creeps out to acknowledge the invincibility of these ridges, to offer respect to their cragged, ragged ruggedness. And hauntingly, a golden eagle’s screech of a cry, climbs the wet slopes as if to add its approval however the Black Cuillin Mountains are up, on the march, chanting and swaying to those favoured words: “Step we gaily, on we go!”
Enter Author Name (Not Required)