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.



Enter Title (Not Required)

Enter Poem or Quote (Required)

Enter Author Name (Not Required)

Move Text:

Heading Text

       
Color:

Main/Poem Text

       
Color:
Background Position Alignment:
  | 
 

Upload Image: 
 


 
 10mb max file size

Use Internet Image:




Like: https://www.poetrysoup.com/images/ce_Finnaly_home_soare.jpg  
Layout:   
www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry
Last Deer Hunt
It comes back to me in solemnity, and I wistfully wish it wouldn't. A willful case of killing it was— a hunter doing what he shouldn't. Father had taken me deer hunting, thinking to make a man of a boy. I prayed we wouldn't see a deer. and we didn't—not one—such joy! Daylight was dimming to dusk when he said our hunt had ended. We started down a rocky trail, and at a turn—we froze, suspended. A hunter was positioned to shoot, crouched, rifle cradled with skill. Target? A shiny-eyed rabbit happily nibbling a leafy meal. "Oh, don't," I felt to cry out, but then a c-r-a-c-k cricked the air. The place where the rabbit had been was as if nothing were ever there. "He missed," my glad heart sang; "the rabbit's alive and is all right." But the hunter's face was fulsome with a beastly, loathsome blight. As we came by the spot, I retched, the brush was garnished with gore. Father's silence tracked the truth; we wouldn't go hunting any more. How to conceive of such blood thirst— wanton killing as an act of gladness. I trust, however, for those so cursed civility will supercede such madness.
Copyright © 2024 Paul Schneiter. All Rights Reserved

Book: Reflection on the Important Things