Home » Poems » Poetry Art » Poetry Art / Greeting Card Maker

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.

Text
Layout
Background

Enter Title (Not Required)

Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required
The formality of it stings. “How are you?” Delivered with a self-conscious courtesy and a poverty of emotion calculated to immediately keep me at arm’s length, fencing herself in. There was a time when this same greeting would have been prefixed with a velvet-soft “hey” and saturated with a low hum of closeness that instantly muted the world around us, drawing me inside the fence with her, accompanied by a slackening of features and posture, as if the short separations demanded by work and other humdrum inconveniences of daily life were reluctant journeys, and home was wherever I happened to be. The piano player in a corner of the bar, as if sensing the intrusion of something buried into the world of the living, the chance encounter of present with its past, is now, with a mischievous glint in his eye, playing the kind of slow, tinkling jazz tune that, echoing from many nights past, is freighted with a desolation of angels. We're talking like fugitives fleeing our own shadows, the plastic pleasantries we exchange a cover-up, every word the coded equivalent of “don’t go there”, slow dancing without touching. Too soon, or too late, we decide it’s time to put an end to the past-present, like two estranged parents enforcing an early curfew on former versions of themselves. While we're walking away from each other, the piano notes waft like wayward stars through the door of the bar, trailing two ghosts who are, behind our backs, eloping into the night.

Enter Author Name (Not Required)

Move Text:

Heading Text

Color:

Main/Poem Text

Color:

Background Position Alignment:
LeftCenterRight | TopCenterBottom

Tall Bkgds
Wide Bkgds

Upload Image:

Fit to HeightFit to Width

10mb max file size

Use Internet Image:

Fit to HeightFit to Width

Like: https://www.poetrysoup.com/images/ce_Finnaly_home_soare.jpg

Layout: TallShort

www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry

How Are You

The formality of it stings. “How are you?” Delivered with a self-conscious courtesy and a poverty of emotion calculated to immediately keep me at arm’s length, fencing herself in. There was a time when this same greeting would have been prefixed with a velvet-soft “hey” and saturated with a low hum of closeness that instantly muted the world around us, drawing me inside the fence with her, accompanied by a slackening of features and posture, as if the short separations demanded by work and other humdrum inconveniences of daily life were reluctant journeys, and home was wherever I happened to be. The piano player in a corner of the bar, as if sensing the intrusion of something buried into the world of the living, the chance encounter of present with its past, is now, with a mischievous glint in his eye, playing the kind of slow, tinkling jazz tune that, echoing from many nights past, is freighted with a desolation of angels. We're talking like fugitives fleeing our own shadows, the plastic pleasantries we exchange a cover-up, every word the coded equivalent of “don’t go there”, slow dancing without touching. Too soon, or too late, we decide it’s time to put an end to the past-present, like two estranged parents enforcing an early curfew on former versions of themselves. While we're walking away from each other, the piano notes waft like wayward stars through the door of the bar, trailing two ghosts who are, behind our backs, eloping into the night.