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 Final Words
I remember many years ago, when I was just a lad, My biggest hero in my life, happened to be my dad. I grew up with no siblings, in a happy home, And daily as a child, I'd write a story and a poem. I'd discuss how my day went and the things that I had done, And put words to my feelings, be it happy, sad or fun. I'd keep them in a binder, tucked underneath my bed, Well hidden from intruders, near where I'd rest my head. Many years later, as a teen, my parents separate. They tell me dads moving to another state. He decided to leave his family and work on his career, Things hadn't been so good at home for well over a year. I hold in the tears, run upstairs and begin to write. About the terrible news I got, that late school night. I rip out my binders, and sit quickly in my chair. I write "why do I do this, no one seems to care". I grab all my diaries, from my hidden stash, throw them in a garbage bag and take them out for trash. For many years I never took out a paper and pen, I promised myself this day I would never write again. I visit my dad often, til life gets in the way, And visits turn to phone calls as we run outta things to say. He would say that he loved me, I'd say I loved him too. But our conversations remained small, we were never really true. I get the dreaded phone call in february '11, God had come to take my dad and bring him up to heaven. I go through my dads stuff, and what defined his life, Pictures of dead relatives, my family, his ex wife. I miss the times we had, even our silent talks, Hidden in his closet, I pull out a big box. When I move the box, I can't believe my eyes, My family runs in the room, when they hear my sobbing cries. The writings I had thrown out so many years before. Were neatly piled behind the box, on the closet floor. I read through the pages, memories flood my mind, My life as a child so neatly defined. I make it to the last page, I find written in blue, under "No one seems to care" My Daddy wrote "I do"
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