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 the photo graphic, 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.

Enter Title (Not Required)

Enter Poem or Quote (Required)

Enter Author Name (Not Required)

Move Text:

Heading Text


Main/Poem Text

Background Position Alignment:

Upload Image: 

 10mb max file size

Use Internet Image:

Layout: - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry
Money, Value, and a Response
“Four dollars a shot,” marched from the bartender’s mouth - each syllable carried the clanks of Herbie’s Rhodes – jutting like glacier crags in swells of desert-base. They carried the smoke curling like a silver chain draped around a neck, and the bulges of slurred blurbs. The words seeped from the regular collection of the blood-sweet odor of smoke – not the bartender. I understood the bar, but I didn’t know what he meant. The four dollars rustled out of my wallet and crinkled on the table like brittle leaves popping back into form. The sap-colored whiskey plunked on the bar, and hummed a sharp alcoholic song. Masked, the bartender noticed an obtuse heap of slurs that rumpled his skin into a smile. His shoulders flipped, and he was swept into the patterned shrub of sensation. He was now an indeterminable piece in a clouded order. I swilled the amber, and stumbled through links of smoke until I spilled out into the violent protrusions of the quiet evening – like sails glaring on a sun-crushed sea. I still can’t figure out what that four dollars was worth, or what the bartender said to me.
Copyright © 2020 William McIntosh McIntosh. All Rights Reserved