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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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Picture it. 3:00 AM Niagara Falls, Canada We are rudely awakened by an intermittent buzzing very loud irritating, nerve grating. “What is that?” I ask. “Fire alarm,” he answers. We get up, wide awake now. “Maybe it’s just a drill,” he says, hopefully. A disembodied voice “Please remain calm, please stay in your room while we investigate.” The message is repeated at intervals. He goes back to bed. “What are you doing?” I ask. “It’s probably a false alarm,” he answers. I wonder. I’m thinking that if it’s real we’re wasting precious time. We’re on the ninth floor. I’m thinking of the arthritis in my knees, knowing we would not be allowed to use the elevators. I get dressed, make coffee, immediately apply my makeup, check my hair. The word is passed along the halls “Evacuate, evacuate the hotel!” I grab my purse, jewelry, camera and poetry notebook. He puts shoes on bare feet, exits the room wearing only a tee-shirt and sweat pants. The stairs are crowded with people in various stages of undress: Fuzzy slippers, long sleep shirts, flip-flops, nylon jogging shorts flimsy gowns, satin boxers. A moving mass, silently descending. Outside, hundreds milled around, quietly watching the fire trucks parked at the curb, motors running, red lights flashing. I un-sheath my camera, begin capturing the moment. When the all-clear sounds, he starts back upstairs. “I’m going back to bed,” he announces, and begins the climb back upstairs. “Not me,” I say, “I’ll see you later.” I find a chair in the lobby, sit down to watch drama unfold. A couple from Toronto had walked down from the 22nd floor, she with a cane (hip replacement surgery). A young woman from Louisiana with Aloette Cosmetics, roses in arms, waiting for the shuttle bus. Families with small children. A bride, whose new husband had walked off without her gives him an angry message, a rude gesture, a divorce threat. Free Starbucks coffee supplied by the hotel, followed by a bill, shoved under the door, seven hundred sixty-three dollars. “For three nights!” he rages. “It was worth it,” I say, “I wouldn’t have missed it!”

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False Alarm 1

Picture it. 3:00 AM Niagara Falls, Canada We are rudely awakened by an intermittent buzzing very loud irritating, nerve grating. “What is that?” I ask. “Fire alarm,” he answers. We get up, wide awake now. “Maybe it’s just a drill,” he says, hopefully. A disembodied voice “Please remain calm, please stay in your room while we investigate.” The message is repeated at intervals. He goes back to bed. “What are you doing?” I ask. “It’s probably a false alarm,” he answers. I wonder. I’m thinking that if it’s real we’re wasting precious time. We’re on the ninth floor. I’m thinking of the arthritis in my knees, knowing we would not be allowed to use the elevators. I get dressed, make coffee, immediately apply my makeup, check my hair. The word is passed along the halls “Evacuate, evacuate the hotel!” I grab my purse, jewelry, camera and poetry notebook. He puts shoes on bare feet, exits the room wearing only a tee-shirt and sweat pants. The stairs are crowded with people in various stages of undress: Fuzzy slippers, long sleep shirts, flip-flops, nylon jogging shorts flimsy gowns, satin boxers. A moving mass, silently descending. Outside, hundreds milled around, quietly watching the fire trucks parked at the curb, motors running, red lights flashing. I un-sheath my camera, begin capturing the moment. When the all-clear sounds, he starts back upstairs. “I’m going back to bed,” he announces, and begins the climb back upstairs. “Not me,” I say, “I’ll see you later.” I find a chair in the lobby, sit down to watch drama unfold. A couple from Toronto had walked down from the 22nd floor, she with a cane (hip replacement surgery). A young woman from Louisiana with Aloette Cosmetics, roses in arms, waiting for the shuttle bus. Families with small children. A bride, whose new husband had walked off without her gives him an angry message, a rude gesture, a divorce threat. Free Starbucks coffee supplied by the hotel, followed by a bill, shoved under the door, seven hundred sixty-three dollars. “For three nights!” he rages. “It was worth it,” I say, “I wouldn’t have missed it!”