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 Within the quiet morning hours, Beneath the ticking of the clock, An old man whiled away the time, And reminisced of days forgot His face was worn from many years, Although his eyes seemed still unchanged; Like leather were his heavy hands, Wrapped tight about his gnarled cane A fire roared inside the hearth, Though from his window snow fell fast; ‘Too fast to shovel now’, he thought, As he peered through the speckled glass And with the thought there came a fear, For he knew there was no one home To aid him when the snow appeared Too deep to venture on his own ‘Soon there won’t be a soul in sight, Save but for mine, though I’ll go too And meet the endless sea of white, Lest my own house becomes my tomb’ But as the old man tried to stand, He found his strength begin to wane; He fiercely pushed with both his hands, But could not rise to meet his cane In panic now, he cursed aloud For all the years he’d sat and slept Upon the chair that kept him down, For now it pained him ‘til he wept The fire below began to die, As embers glowed and turned to black, While outside snow began to rise, Now filling every nook and crack ‘It isn’t fair!’ the old man cried, As he tried desperately to stand; An idle life of sitting by Had finally caught up to him ‘I should have left when I still could; I should have overcame my fear; But now no gentle hand will ease The passing of my spirit here’ Thus, as the morning hours grew late, His labored groans grew faint and stopped; His feeble home encased in snow, Beneath the ticking of the clock.
Enter Author Name (Not Required)