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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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This is who I am My name is Stanislaus J. O’Connor Born on April 17th in Belfast, Ireland Youngest of eight children My father admired the Polish people The way they fought During the last Great War When the odds were against them Wanted me to be strong Like them So he named me Stanislaus. I carried that name Not without some teasing Took it in stride Solidarity came along Organized by Polish dock workers in the 1980’s Ended Communist rule Father remembered stories Of 1910 When ten thousand dock workers went on strike Closed Belfast down Taught the Brits a lesson. Young, unemployed and drunk I saw an artist friend of mine He worked on me all day Not stopping except to wipe the drippings on my back I felt no particular pain Jut laid there flat on my stomach Waiting When it was over I had the color and imagery From the tattoo Of a Polish Cross. Listened to the people Took to the streets In the struggle Against the Brits One night Strangers jumped out of the shadows Put flashlights to my eyes Stood me up Led me out In handcuffs. At HM Prison Maze I was kept in a small cell Occasionally let out to walk in the prison yard One summer afternoon I took off my shirt Paddy asked me what’s that on your back Polish Cross I said Murmur of voices Fellow inmates hesitated Someone near the wall broke the silence, “Let him be. God is in every cross.” In despair a cell mate said he couldn’t take it anymore Afraid that he would die in prison Recalling words From an old Catholic catechism I said “No man can learn what his heart cannot hold“. I made up the rest “Tell God what you stand for He’ll understand And forgive you.” Ten years later Dragged from my cell Feet barely touching ground I was released on amnesty. Coming home Family met me Open arms Some traveled from faraway Felt good To touch warm hands Climbed to the top of Cavehill Seagulls Glide in lazy circles Twelve hundred feet above sea level Overlooking Belfast From its heights The world can be seen Across a wind swept ocean of dark memories Of what once was My youth.

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The Irishman

This is who I am My name is Stanislaus J. O’Connor Born on April 17th in Belfast, Ireland Youngest of eight children My father admired the Polish people The way they fought During the last Great War When the odds were against them Wanted me to be strong Like them So he named me Stanislaus. I carried that name Not without some teasing Took it in stride Solidarity came along Organized by Polish dock workers in the 1980’s Ended Communist rule Father remembered stories Of 1910 When ten thousand dock workers went on strike Closed Belfast down Taught the Brits a lesson. Young, unemployed and drunk I saw an artist friend of mine He worked on me all day Not stopping except to wipe the drippings on my back I felt no particular pain Jut laid there flat on my stomach Waiting When it was over I had the color and imagery From the tattoo Of a Polish Cross. Listened to the people Took to the streets In the struggle Against the Brits One night Strangers jumped out of the shadows Put flashlights to my eyes Stood me up Led me out In handcuffs. At HM Prison Maze I was kept in a small cell Occasionally let out to walk in the prison yard One summer afternoon I took off my shirt Paddy asked me what’s that on your back Polish Cross I said Murmur of voices Fellow inmates hesitated Someone near the wall broke the silence, “Let him be. God is in every cross.” In despair a cell mate said he couldn’t take it anymore Afraid that he would die in prison Recalling words From an old Catholic catechism I said “No man can learn what his heart cannot hold“. I made up the rest “Tell God what you stand for He’ll understand And forgive you.” Ten years later Dragged from my cell Feet barely touching ground I was released on amnesty. Coming home Family met me Open arms Some traveled from faraway Felt good To touch warm hands Climbed to the top of Cavehill Seagulls Glide in lazy circles Twelve hundred feet above sea level Overlooking Belfast From its heights The world can be seen Across a wind swept ocean of dark memories Of what once was My youth.