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 the photo graphic, 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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The Vanishing Skylark
Today I heard an ancient song that took me by surprise, A song that since creation had filled our country skies. A song that has for centuries filled mans heart with joy, A song that brought back memories of when I was a boy. When I could wander over fields of Clover Grass or Wheat. Or lay beneath some shady tree to dodge the summer heat. All throughout these halcyon days above the insects drone. This joyous song reminded me that I was not alone. That nature rampant, uncontrolled with vigour unconfined. Had conquered all our countryside long before mankind. I realised this sweet birdsong as heard in ancient past. Was up against man’s progress, whereby it would not last. For even at a tender age I somehow understood. That agriculture’s chemicals would do more harm than good. Then the tide was turning and man fought control to gain. By removing ancient hedgerows creating one vast plain. The Poppy and Corncockle were denuded from the Wheat. Thus no seeds or insects thrive for any birds to eat. Somehow the lust for progress never seemed to stop and look at the catastrophic change in river, pond or brook. Where are the Grass Snakes, Toads or Newts, where is the common Frog. The flood planes now have houses on where once there was a bog. No more do we hear Linnets sing with Blackbird Wren or Thrush. The countryside has taken on an all pervading hush. We have yet to realise that our inventive skill, does not enrich diversity but only serves to kill. Alas mankind’s eternal search for ever rich reward has sterilised the country over which the Skylark soared. Will our children still to come ever understand what drove our generation to create this baron land?. And yet, I heard a Skylark on an Industry Estate We now must find another way before it gets too late They too must hear this ancient song we must not let it die and forever may they cherish this sweet music of the sky.
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