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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The Swing Set
Revisiting the park of my childhood, I envision myself and my sisters. We are laughing and shouting, running this way and that. “Let’s go on the swing set,” I say. We each grab a swing, and as if in a contest, we begin to pump our legs, pushing ourselves backward, then leaning forward and up! We’re giggling birds, and our lean little legs are wings taking us higher and higher to the sky. No limit is there on our time! It’s summer, and like birds, we are free. At times we get lost in our own quiet thoughts - I revel in the mere pleasure of hearing and feeling the wind in my hair as I swing and I swing till I tire of it. Boldly then, I take a wild leap forward straight out of my seat right as the swing has reached its highest peak! Agilely I land on my two feet, no worries about a bad back, sore neck or aging knees. I’m oozing with audaciousness in the spring of my youth, and I have nothing to fear. Reality hits me. The whoops of running children no longer are heard. The park is deserted. The kids of today are likely elsewhere texting on cell phones! In the quiet, I hear all of a sudden the croon of a bird. It’s calling to me, “Go to the swing set.” I walk to a swing and sit down. Like riding a bike, it always comes back. I’m older now, but the child inside me is winging. Just for a moment, I feel so alive. Then a quesiness grasps at my stomach. I let the swing slow to a stop. The swing set is creaking along with my bones - bones that dare not take a leap mid-air just to leave this swinging chair! No sisters are with me. Spring is long gone. I stand in the gloaming of the season . . . and the bird – why has it stopped its sweet song? Sorry it's not a new one but it's one of mine that never got many reads: For Silent One's That was Then, This is Now contest
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