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 Childhood. I read, in a newspaper, with following black white & photo of children used as slave labourers many years ago, I was one of them, but I didn’t share the misery described. I was sat with my little suitcase on a bus that trundled through a flat landscape, told to sit there until a man called my name. It was a small farm and the farmer’s wife gave me a thick slice of bread with strawberry jam on. Then I was shown my room a tiny loft span with straw mattress and it was bitterly cold. I started work at six next morning, with a glass of milk and a slice of bread, my job was to muck out the cows shed shuffle the residue down a hole in the wall, the manure was later used fertilise the land. School was every other day and a bit bothersome till I hit one of my torments with a brick over his head and poise of fear was restored. I quickly got the hang on the farm work, got on well with the farmer and was spared the dirtiest work. Years I spent on the farm, but then my mother came home from sanatorium I wanted to be near her; apparently it was not legal to just leave like that but I left anyway. One day many years later, feeling nostalgic I went back to the farm, it wasn’t there anymore, had been turned into a housing estate. Poverty, struggle, need and were all forgotten incidental as life itself, but I owe it to them, after me there will be no one left to tell the story
Enter Author Name (Not Required)