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 Morning Blues of London by Steven Cooke I see reflections in the window, My coffee, my only friend. Waiting for my journey to begin. My suitcase, my only possession. Yesterdays clothes, yesterdays photos, Yesterdays dreams, all packed neatly for yesterdays man. The whistle, slowly we move off, Leaving yesterdays life. As I ponder through my window, I hear the track mocking, “It’s all your fault”, “it’s all your fault”, “it’s all your fault”. No peace for yesterdays man. We pass fields of lavender, a reminder of when love was sweet. I see fields of barley, and hay bales, Where forbidden love was born, Then ploughed fields, the furrows of betrayal, Raking through my soul. We pass a ruined castle, my dreams my hopes, all perished there. Swept away by the forces of passion, Crumbling the walls of yesterdays love. My window of torment, reveals all. “please go away” For I want Today’s window, But my confession, rapes my mind. You see my wife loves another, My neglect, my fault, all the judges agreed. Into a tunnel, a respite from all this. A moment’s darkness. Alone again, with my coffee. I’m still, rolling down the track of despair, The guard announcing the next station. “All change at Piccadilly,” “Connections for nowhere and oblivion” “Platform Three”. A rush of bowler Hats cram the doors, Anonymous souls leading anonymous lives. And me, with my cup of coffee, alone with the window, I see reflections once more. I lay my pen down, And I Thank god that’s not me. Oh how I hate Monday mornings. Time to leave.
Enter Author Name (Not Required)