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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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Wherever peaches grow I go and pick 'em. When they get ripe I try and swipe 'em. The farmer runs out with a shotgun and wonders where's the varmint gone? I'm hiding by the railroad tracks stacking the peaches I've found. Then a freight train about a mile long rolls by hauling a bucket of rain. I hop aboard while beautiful clouds gather to the north. I put my peaches in the bucket and lug it to a hidden part of the train. The rain begins, the night looms in, it's summer and it's thoughts and warm. To the clacking rumble and the patter I close my eyes and dream. An earthquake swallows up the people who wear horrible masks of fright as their daily tasks are trampled. In a favorite movie theater an illumined lady puts her hand in mine, warm mouths, breath, skin, hair wing-soft, whole bodies, wind, bare. I open my eyes at sunrise there's a steady glow of light around. If you can believe in God, you can believe the mountains go from purple to green. While the last partier meanders home to bed the first farmer is up to milk his bread. Fruit of the world ripens audibly and cities make a silent, distant sound. Lonely guy stretches, rubs his eyes, pees out a passing train, has a breakfast of peaches and rainwater.

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Peaches

Wherever peaches grow I go and pick 'em. When they get ripe I try and swipe 'em. The farmer runs out with a shotgun and wonders where's the varmint gone? I'm hiding by the railroad tracks stacking the peaches I've found. Then a freight train about a mile long rolls by hauling a bucket of rain. I hop aboard while beautiful clouds gather to the north. I put my peaches in the bucket and lug it to a hidden part of the train. The rain begins, the night looms in, it's summer and it's thoughts and warm. To the clacking rumble and the patter I close my eyes and dream. An earthquake swallows up the people who wear horrible masks of fright as their daily tasks are trampled. In a favorite movie theater an illumined lady puts her hand in mine, warm mouths, breath, skin, hair wing-soft, whole bodies, wind, bare. I open my eyes at sunrise there's a steady glow of light around. If you can believe in God, you can believe the mountains go from purple to green. While the last partier meanders home to bed the first farmer is up to milk his bread. Fruit of the world ripens audibly and cities make a silent, distant sound. Lonely guy stretches, rubs his eyes, pees out a passing train, has a breakfast of peaches and rainwater.