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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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The morn dawned bright, with autumnal light, the cool air was crisp and clean: overnight snows that fell, as all could tell, had changed the country scene! Sounds heard shrill, through air coldly still, birthed echoes, sharp and long, whilst the raucous crow, who hates the snow, cawed out his doleful song! In sham disguise, Fall will surprise, with its seasonal turn-around. Whilst one day is hot, another is not, so its diversities abound! The sun rising pale, over hill and dale, had little of warmth to share. Much later that day, when skies turned gray, thick snows fell everywhere. When the river showed, it too had slowed: it’s waters starting to freeze. In a red clouded sky, clouds drifting by: becalmed, the evening breeze. When midnight neared, the skies had cleared, and nature offered thrills. with Northern Lights, being such wondrous sights, she banished autumn chills! When the moon is full, it exerts a pull; we’re drawn to the great outdoors. With such delight, seen in the bright moonlight, we’ll prowl through forest and moors. After coyote cries, under starlit skies, put a nervous grouse to flight, a fox on a prowl, and snowy white owl, were seen in the moon’s bright light! Though warmly dressed, we received protest, from our arthritic bones. In the biting cold, and becoming old, they all give forth with groans! At the sunset hour, when the skies are dour, we see signs of winter’s ire. With no time to waste, we return in haste, to sit by the warming fire. Such is the way, of a November day, it’s intent is never known. Whether cold or hot, and like it or not, to its foibles we are prone! Rhymer. November 14th, 2016.
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