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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www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry
Slice of Life
The bus station is empty, three hours to wait. The girl behind the counter, long black hair hanging in ringlets, stares lazily as we approach. "May I help you?" The homeless man wanders in slowly, takes a seat on the opposite side of the room, facing the wall- escapes through sleep. Hours pass; would be travelers trickle in. An addicted people-watcher, I observe, intrigued. A young couple; hands joined, hug, touch, smile. The girl constantly moves, poses, her curves displayed by form-fitting fashion. A tall man; work roughened hands, weathered cowboy boots, one tote bag, and a look of determined purpose. A tiny black woman holds herself erect, steps briskly. Hand-knitted hat covers gray hair. Spike heels augment her height and full-length red coat. A young white man; two silver rings in his eyebrow, wearing a black leather jacket, faded [slightly dirty]jeans and flip-flops asks, Who won? and laments that he is too young to vote. A woman of indeterminate age; orange bleached hair, clothes bedecked with glitter, talks in a loud, rough voice. Does her manner mask a vulnerable heart? As departure time approaches; the ticket line grows long, the empty metal benches fill, groups stand near the door- luggage piled at their feet. I watch, knowing that I will not pass this way again, and muse: There's a life story for each one, a book which may never be written.
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things