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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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The room was alive with colour, dancing rainbows swirling under the glowing golden chandelier. Laughter filled the air, no one noticed the young girl tending to a single tear. The warmth of the room was not felt upon her pale skin, she felt only the harsh frost of her fathers love. The white ivory keys from the piano played, with each striking note she once again felt her fathers riding glove. Whilst lost in her thoughts, soul searching upon an empty river bed that dried up seasons ago. Her fiancé walks over to her and reaches out his hand, an offer to dance was all he could do to ease this young girls woe. He was not a bad man as his bank glowed with gold, his heart was warm and kind much like that of her late mother. Alas for these kind qualities could not change the fact, her heart had fallen for another. They twirled and danced, clapped and smiled her ears were filled with music and laughter. But beneath it all was pain and confusion, her mind was filled with the spiteful words of her father. Earlier that day he had tried to beat sense into her, she was to marry a decent man and that was final. With a loving blow only a father could give, he believed that her desires of sharing a bed with another woman was alterable. They both knew that his attempts were in vain, she had been like this for years and nothing would change. Her father had always despised her, the daughter he believed to be strange. No one would know that tonight's dance would be her last, that her life would be cut short upon the morrow. Her death much like her mother, suicide or murder one would never know. But until that moment comes her father stands silent and alone, holding a crimson glass of his favourite Bordeaux. In the corner of the ballroom he watches her with a stern look, his face cast in shadow by the golden chandeliers glow.
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