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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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I awake each morning With fresh hope And tranquility; I might go for a saunter Down quiet London backstreets... Soon my aimlessness Depresses me, And I realise I'd been deceiving myself As to my ability To relax as others do. I decided on a Special B Before the eve. I bought a lager At the bar And chatted to Gaye. Then Ray Bought me another. I appreciated the fact That he remembered The time he, His gal Chris, And Cary downed An entire bottle Of Jack Daniels In a Paris-bound train. A tanned cat Bought me a (large) half, Then another half. My fatal eyes Are my downfall. I drank yet another half... My head was spinning When it hit the pillow; I awoke With a terrible headache Around one o'clock. I prayed it would depart. I slowly got dressed. I was as chatty as ever Before the exam... French/English translation. Periodically I put my face In my hands or groaned Or sighed - My stomach was burning me inside. I finished my paper In 1 hour and a half. As I walked out I caught various eyes Amanda's, Jade's (quizzical) etc. I went to bed; Slept 'till five; Read O'Neill until 7ish... Got dressed, And strolled down To Golders Green, In order to relive A few memories. I sang to myself - A few memories Flashed into my mind, But not as many as I'd have liked - It wasn't the same. It wasn't the same. Singing songs brought Voluptuous tears. I snuck into McDonald's Where I felt at home, Anonymous, alone. I bought a few things, Toothpaste and pick, Chocolate, yoghurts, Sweets, cigarettes And fruit juice. Took a sentimental journey Back to Powis Gardens, Richness And intensity, Romantic And attractive, Sad, suspicious and strange. I sat up until 3am, Reading O'Neill, Or writing (inept) poetry. Awoke at 10, But didn't leave My room till 12, Lost my way To Swiss Cottage, Lost my happiness. Oh so conscious Of my failure, And after a fashion, Enjoying this knowledge. ("The Wanderer" originally existed as, as I now see them, melodramatic, would-be tortured artist diary notes dating from the early 1980s; ultimately becoming part of a memoir called "Rescue of a Rock and Roll Child", even while all the original names have been changed.)

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The Wanderer of Golders Green

I awake each morning With fresh hope And tranquility; I might go for a saunter Down quiet London backstreets... Soon my aimlessness Depresses me, And I realise I'd been deceiving myself As to my ability To relax as others do. I decided on a Special B Before the eve. I bought a lager At the bar And chatted to Gaye. Then Ray Bought me another. I appreciated the fact That he remembered The time he, His gal Chris, And Cary downed An entire bottle Of Jack Daniels In a Paris-bound train. A tanned cat Bought me a (large) half, Then another half. My fatal eyes Are my downfall. I drank yet another half... My head was spinning When it hit the pillow; I awoke With a terrible headache Around one o'clock. I prayed it would depart. I slowly got dressed. I was as chatty as ever Before the exam... French/English translation. Periodically I put my face In my hands or groaned Or sighed - My stomach was burning me inside. I finished my paper In 1 hour and a half. As I walked out I caught various eyes Amanda's, Jade's (quizzical) etc. I went to bed; Slept 'till five; Read O'Neill until 7ish... Got dressed, And strolled down To Golders Green, In order to relive A few memories. I sang to myself - A few memories Flashed into my mind, But not as many as I'd have liked - It wasn't the same. It wasn't the same. Singing songs brought Voluptuous tears. I snuck into McDonald's Where I felt at home, Anonymous, alone. I bought a few things, Toothpaste and pick, Chocolate, yoghurts, Sweets, cigarettes And fruit juice. Took a sentimental journey Back to Powis Gardens, Richness And intensity, Romantic And attractive, Sad, suspicious and strange. I sat up until 3am, Reading O'Neill, Or writing (inept) poetry. Awoke at 10, But didn't leave My room till 12, Lost my way To Swiss Cottage, Lost my happiness. Oh so conscious Of my failure, And after a fashion, Enjoying this knowledge. ("The Wanderer" originally existed as, as I now see them, melodramatic, would-be tortured artist diary notes dating from the early 1980s; ultimately becoming part of a memoir called "Rescue of a Rock and Roll Child", even while all the original names have been changed.)