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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.

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( ROSES FOR MOMMA ) I took a trip down to the florist, One early Christmas Eve morn. I happened upon a homeless man, Who appeared desperate and forlorn. He said, “Could you spare some change good sir?” I asked him what he’d use it for. He said, “I’ll buy roses for mama. As I have done each year before.” I reached my hand into my pocket And I removed a dollar bill. I said, make sure this goes toward flowers, He smiled and promised me, “It will.” He had enough for three red roses, They wrapped them up in a bouquet. He turned with a smile and shook my hand, Then thanked me and was on his way. Content that I had done my good deed, I bought some flowers for my wife. There were two dozen long stemmed roses, For she is the love of my life. As I drove by the cemetery, I noticed that same homeless man. He was kneeling down beside a grave, So I pulled in and parked my van. My heart broke, viewing this tragic scene, I didn’t quite know what to say. I walked over to that homeless man, And handed him my wife’s bouquet. He said, these were meant for someone else, I cannot take them from your hand. I said they’re meant as a gift of love, And I know my wife will understand. So he placed them on his mother’s grave, Tears rolling down his weathered face. And for a moment I stood frozen, Unable to move from that place. Then a voice from behind me inquired, “Excuse me sir, was she a friend?” I explained, I’d come there with her son. The man seemed not to comprehend. And then I pointed at the roses, But the homeless man wasn’t there. The stranger said, “So you saw him too?” I said, he was right here, I swear! He smiled, “Don’t worry, I believe you.” Then told me, “I’ve seen him as well. It was Christmas Eve, six years ago, A story I don’t often tell.” He claimed there was something I should know, I asked what he was referring to, He told me her son died one winter, Back in nineteen seventy two. And though he is no longer alive, Somehow he still makes us believe. Every year you’ll find roses for mama, Placed on her grave each Christmas Eve.

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Roses For Momma

( ROSES FOR MOMMA ) I took a trip down to the florist, One early Christmas Eve morn. I happened upon a homeless man, Who appeared desperate and forlorn. He said, “Could you spare some change good sir?” I asked him what he’d use it for. He said, “I’ll buy roses for mama. As I have done each year before.” I reached my hand into my pocket And I removed a dollar bill. I said, make sure this goes toward flowers, He smiled and promised me, “It will.” He had enough for three red roses, They wrapped them up in a bouquet. He turned with a smile and shook my hand, Then thanked me and was on his way. Content that I had done my good deed, I bought some flowers for my wife. There were two dozen long stemmed roses, For she is the love of my life. As I drove by the cemetery, I noticed that same homeless man. He was kneeling down beside a grave, So I pulled in and parked my van. My heart broke, viewing this tragic scene, I didn’t quite know what to say. I walked over to that homeless man, And handed him my wife’s bouquet. He said, these were meant for someone else, I cannot take them from your hand. I said they’re meant as a gift of love, And I know my wife will understand. So he placed them on his mother’s grave, Tears rolling down his weathered face. And for a moment I stood frozen, Unable to move from that place. Then a voice from behind me inquired, “Excuse me sir, was she a friend?” I explained, I’d come there with her son. The man seemed not to comprehend. And then I pointed at the roses, But the homeless man wasn’t there. The stranger said, “So you saw him too?” I said, he was right here, I swear! He smiled, “Don’t worry, I believe you.” Then told me, “I’ve seen him as well. It was Christmas Eve, six years ago, A story I don’t often tell.” He claimed there was something I should know, I asked what he was referring to, He told me her son died one winter, Back in nineteen seventy two. And though he is no longer alive, Somehow he still makes us believe. Every year you’ll find roses for mama, Placed on her grave each Christmas Eve.