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 clock strikes twelve on a dandelion dial, Ad the dirt begins to stretch and yawn, As emerald laces tie the boots of the soil To march across the velvet lawn. The tulips are gossiping in hushed, buttery tones, Telling secrets of the tea-party rain, While the pebbles turn into sugar-frosted stones And the ivy winds a copper-wire chain. There's a rabbit in a waistcoat made of moss Checking a pocket-watch carved from a plum, He argues with a lily about profit and loss While the bumblebees begin to hum a rhythm-Thrum, thrum, thrum-A cello played by a cricket's knee, Underneath the shade of a peppermint tree. The caterpillars are weaving silk ribbons of blue To hang from the horns of the crescent moon, While the daisies drink a vintage of honey and dew From a silver-plated, thimble-sized spoon. Do not step on the shadows; they're feeling quite shy, They've turned into puddles of violet ink, And the clouds are just marshmallows drifting on high, Waiting for the sun to give them a wink. Everything is breathing in a rhythmic, wild pulse, The roses are painting their own petals red, With a logic that's lovely and entirely false, Born from the dreams of a sleepy-garden bed. The air smells of whistles and lost, golden keys, As the season begins its impossible dance, Lost in the swirl of the whispering trees, And the beautiful, blooming, botanical trance. The snails wear top hats of polished snail-shell, Riding on turtles that move like a breeze, Ringing a chime on a blue-bonnet bell To wake up the roots of the sleeping sweet peas. The mushrooms are stools for the invisible folk, Who play cards with petals and bets made of light, While the old weeping willow, in a charcoal cloak, Tells stories of winter to the coming of night. A fountain of soda pops up from the grass, Bubbling with bubbles of lavender scent, And if you look closely through a blade of green glass, You'll see where the rays of the rainbow were bent. The butterflies flutter like pages of books, Writing their poems on the shimmering heat, While the frogs in the stream give the minnows stern looks For dancing too loudly on webbed, mossy feet. The hedge is a dragon with scales made of lime, Guarding a gate mad of gingerbread wood, Where "Yesterday" waits for the "Once Upon Time" To behave as a proper young afternoon should. The wind is a ribbon of taffy and silk, Tying the sun to the top of the hill, As the stars fall like drops of cold, silvery milk Into the cup of a tall daffodil. So hold your breath tight and step through the air, The dirt is a riddle, the bloom is a rhyme, With nonsense and nectar and petals to spare, Waking up early to outrun the time. For Spring is a theater, a marvelous mess, Where the logic of winter is folded and furled, And every new bud wears a polka-dot dress In the upside-down heart of a Wonderland world.
Enter Author Name (Not Required)