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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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Three trains The first train was bereavement, in the cab the driver died pulling a coach of grieving souls, unknowing yet, inside The second train was unemployed and heading where it will no scheduled destination and so many miles to kill Third train was steaming in real fast, relationship express out of control, the brakes applied but flat out, nonetheless. Where the tracks all crossed was a signal box, manned by a crew of one who bumbled by from day to day not knowing what was wrong. But up there in the box he heard, and from all sides could see the trains approach their final stop, and that last stop was me. Bereavement got there first and there was nothing I could do no lights nor signals made a difference, it just ploughed on through as unemployed converged at speed and rolled on to it's side the pair of them went in nose first as relationship arrived the signal box was crushed beneath, it didn't stand a chance buried in the twisted wreck of flaming circumstance. Shock finally subsided and the smoke began to clear just left with total darkness and no way from out of here all the wreckage pressing down meant nowhere else to go just curl up in a tiny ball, try not to move, get low. So there I stayed as unbeknown their night turned into day the sounds of all around me going on their merry way. Many days entombed were spent, not praying for release comfortable in misery, my loneliness my peace until the silence broken by a piercing warning shout, 'No rescue's due, it's up to you to dig your passage out'. From where the voice had come from I could neither hear nor see until the realisation that the sound had come from me skin tearing on the razor steel I slowly fought my way and finally emerged, bathed gratefully in the light of a new day. No fanfare, and no wild applause, no ticker tape parade life went on, oblivious to the escape that I had made. Since then I've built another box around me, much much stronger and hope the time till the next train will be, Lord, much much longer. For contest 'Get low', sponsored by Casarah Nance In memory of that dreadful year 2002.

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Get Low- Three Trains

Three trains The first train was bereavement, in the cab the driver died pulling a coach of grieving souls, unknowing yet, inside The second train was unemployed and heading where it will no scheduled destination and so many miles to kill Third train was steaming in real fast, relationship express out of control, the brakes applied but flat out, nonetheless. Where the tracks all crossed was a signal box, manned by a crew of one who bumbled by from day to day not knowing what was wrong. But up there in the box he heard, and from all sides could see the trains approach their final stop, and that last stop was me. Bereavement got there first and there was nothing I could do no lights nor signals made a difference, it just ploughed on through as unemployed converged at speed and rolled on to it's side the pair of them went in nose first as relationship arrived the signal box was crushed beneath, it didn't stand a chance buried in the twisted wreck of flaming circumstance. Shock finally subsided and the smoke began to clear just left with total darkness and no way from out of here all the wreckage pressing down meant nowhere else to go just curl up in a tiny ball, try not to move, get low. So there I stayed as unbeknown their night turned into day the sounds of all around me going on their merry way. Many days entombed were spent, not praying for release comfortable in misery, my loneliness my peace until the silence broken by a piercing warning shout, 'No rescue's due, it's up to you to dig your passage out'. From where the voice had come from I could neither hear nor see until the realisation that the sound had come from me skin tearing on the razor steel I slowly fought my way and finally emerged, bathed gratefully in the light of a new day. No fanfare, and no wild applause, no ticker tape parade life went on, oblivious to the escape that I had made. Since then I've built another box around me, much much stronger and hope the time till the next train will be, Lord, much much longer. For contest 'Get low', sponsored by Casarah Nance In memory of that dreadful year 2002.