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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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JOHN MICHAEL MACMILLAN What do they call you in heaven, John Michael MacMillan? Are you still the "Baby-Baby", that player from the past? Sometimes I try to catch you, somehow to hold you Long enough to know that your ship has safely docked. Can you read the poem alone now, John Michael MacMillan? Did God allow you the small, simple pleasure Of having a deck on which to bleed, a place in which to read, A room that owns a door? Sometimes I miss you, John Michael MacMillan. Sometimes I miss the hope we had. Sometimes I wish I had gone with you. Is that why I try so hard to catch you, John Michael MacMillan? Would I know you, as much as I knew you then; Or will I merely remember the haunted story of your past? Your brilliant, blasted brother shot down in your place; Your sanctified vengeance and your holy justice; The penalty imposed on a child. That terrible, eternal loyalty impressed in blue ink To ‘Mama’ Katherine: that damnable necklace of maternal tribute. What of that, John Michael? Did God heal that pain? Do ‘Mama’ Katherine’s walk His streets Holding hands with twin baby boys? Do you still wear her name, John Michael? Or have you forgiven yourself for the rejection Fostered out upon you and your brother. Have you learned to believe that you were worthy of love? That you deserved a better life than the one you stumbled upon; Than the one that stumbled upon you; The one that stomped you; the one that ate you up. If I knew the right words to bring you back, John Michael, I’d use them. But you left too soon; left me behind holding the ghosts of your life. I wonder if you ever look down and just laugh When you hear me calling for you, My serious voice repeating “O Captain, My Captain...” Sometimes I try to see life with your obscure humor, But mostly I listen for the slow, silent tread, Aware your spirit is passing over me. And I know, I know I cannot catch you ever again. For you are gone, John Michael MacMillan, Oh Baby-Baby, you are gone from me And now dwell among the dead. [To John Michael MacMillan. Rest in peace, Baby-Baby.]

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John Michael Macmillan

JOHN MICHAEL MACMILLAN What do they call you in heaven, John Michael MacMillan? Are you still the "Baby-Baby", that player from the past? Sometimes I try to catch you, somehow to hold you Long enough to know that your ship has safely docked. Can you read the poem alone now, John Michael MacMillan? Did God allow you the small, simple pleasure Of having a deck on which to bleed, a place in which to read, A room that owns a door? Sometimes I miss you, John Michael MacMillan. Sometimes I miss the hope we had. Sometimes I wish I had gone with you. Is that why I try so hard to catch you, John Michael MacMillan? Would I know you, as much as I knew you then; Or will I merely remember the haunted story of your past? Your brilliant, blasted brother shot down in your place; Your sanctified vengeance and your holy justice; The penalty imposed on a child. That terrible, eternal loyalty impressed in blue ink To ‘Mama’ Katherine: that damnable necklace of maternal tribute. What of that, John Michael? Did God heal that pain? Do ‘Mama’ Katherine’s walk His streets Holding hands with twin baby boys? Do you still wear her name, John Michael? Or have you forgiven yourself for the rejection Fostered out upon you and your brother. Have you learned to believe that you were worthy of love? That you deserved a better life than the one you stumbled upon; Than the one that stumbled upon you; The one that stomped you; the one that ate you up. If I knew the right words to bring you back, John Michael, I’d use them. But you left too soon; left me behind holding the ghosts of your life. I wonder if you ever look down and just laugh When you hear me calling for you, My serious voice repeating “O Captain, My Captain...” Sometimes I try to see life with your obscure humor, But mostly I listen for the slow, silent tread, Aware your spirit is passing over me. And I know, I know I cannot catch you ever again. For you are gone, John Michael MacMillan, Oh Baby-Baby, you are gone from me And now dwell among the dead. [To John Michael MacMillan. Rest in peace, Baby-Baby.]