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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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Two dwellings in one single block (the peasants at the back). One market garden, orchard, flock: No asphalt road. Just track. The men were in the bottom field to get the barley in. “It’s looking like a bumper yield: don’t lose it. That’s a sin.” The Master’s doing ‘market day’ – four bottles. Pinot noir. The peasants joke: “He’s making hay! He’ll wreck another car!” Maria looked up from her paste – that pasta needs a tweak – it’s never good, if done in haste – no meat or fish this week. She felt the window drawing her: Where’s Salva? On the grass? The Lady, in her Sunday fur! Tomorrow’s Martinmas! This was the day, with harvest picked, when bosses, ‘cleaning house’, by ancient custom could evict, could tell their staff, “Heraus!” But Salva wasn’t in the sand, or playing near the cellar: the Lady, clutching by the hand her daughter, Arabella, called out “Maria! Come to me! And don’t you dare refuse! This yard is filthy. Can’t you see what’s happened to my shoes? Your boy was playing ‘gallows bird’ with Bella, in this mess! And what if something had occurred to Bella’s yellow dress? The first thought in Maria’s head was, “So – we’re not evicted!” The second, “That girl’s overfed – her midriff is constricted.” Signora, with her other arm, held Salva by the scruff. “You peasants,” sneered the farmyard marm, “are naturally rough.” “They’re getting to a certain age, and well, I mean to say …” Maria swallowed down her rage. “Fine. Far apart they’ll stay.”
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