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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A Stroll Down the Street of Gold
A stroll down the street of gold in a garden city rich with roses, I saw poppies and lilies on a drill, smiling like a bevy of beauties, facing the sky. Soft gentle breeze caressed wings of bees buzzing on top the bloom: scent and sound waltzed while honey dropped on lush lawns as on black and white keys. Music welled up, flavored with virgin love in rhythmic flow. A rolling expanse of orchards yawned; trailing vines laden with clusters. Red fluid dripped & rippled, buoying to the shore of a vat, vast as sky. I looked up: no sun, moon, or winking eyes in the bald blue. No clouds nudged up from sleep; no sparrows searching for a summer perch. Reeds bowed, spelled by the soft wind from four ends. A white dove hovered, alighting with a twig of red rose. Eyes stole around, cupped whisper: prize-giving time’s in session. Music was fluid—serenade of a life in love. Bright as crystal, the river streamed on both sides of streets. Fruit trees sprouted; fresh leaves budded and shot out, bore fruits shaped like a heart. Animals and humans fed on them; I stood straight, looked straight, turning like a turning wheel. The air smells good, my breath, too, I mused. We queued up, decked in pomp: silky white, linen red, and gorgeous purple. Eyes on the golden crown, on the end of a race—’rough and tough. I looked as the scene rolled aside for rows of mansions painted white and red and purple. A man stood in front, clothed in white, in purple, in red, handing out sparkling keys. Mine! Mine! I held mine—pretty gold. © 2017 Celestine Ikwuamaesi
Copyright © 2024 Celestine Ikwuamaesi. All Rights Reserved

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