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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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Symphonic sirens serenade me from afar; distinctive, delectable scents tickle and tantalise: my senses awash with anticipation as, finally, I lay eyes on my prey. Slowly and surreptitiously, I draw ever closer to my quarry. Prancing and playing, oblivious to the danger I present, their movements trigger something deep inside: something ancient... something powerful... something dark. The need to bite, to rend, to feed, is all-consuming; but I am no monster, driven by base desires. Salivating, I cast off my instinctive urges, instead focusing on a solitary sentinel positioned on the periphery of the pack. Suddenly, it jerks its head in my direction. Keeping my back down, I drop as low as I can, pressing myself into the frozen ground. Enormous paws clamp across my jet-black snout, effectively camouflaging me against the ice, as my mother taught me and her mother before her. I remain motionless, barely even breathing... time stretches interminably and, just when age-old bestial instincts threaten to re-emerge, the sentry finally returns its attention to its frolicking brethren. I skulk ever-closer... closer... closer... and then: I POUNCE! Swinging my massive right paw in a blur of motion, I land a surgical strike on my unwitting victim's neck. Fulgurating talons sink deep into its flesh, gouging multiple parallel crimson furrows. In the ensuing chaos, the rest of the herd scatters, thwarting my hopes of snaring a second kill. I cast a gaze at the pitiful creature pinned beneath me, somehow still clutching to life. Unmoved by its whimpered mewls, I tear out the remnants of its throat with my teeth. My roar reverberates around the landscape, before I feast on the still-steaming corpse at my feet. Seconds later, a response... weaker, but no less fearsome and my heretofore unseen protégé progeny suddenly bounds across the tundra towards me. I step to one side and he immediately buries his head in the ragged opening I've already torn in the carcass. Masticating noisily, he savours his first taste of blubber. I note with satisfaction his scarlet-stained snout and the viscera-drenched fur around his maw. He has learnt his lesson well. Whatever your impression of us, know this: we are not cute; we are not cuddly. We are furry furies, snow-encrusted behemoths and apex predators: the absolute pinnacle of the food chain. Should our paths ever cross, you'd do well to remember that. --------- 3 December 2017 For Julia Ward's "Polar Bears" contest.

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Polar Bears

Symphonic sirens serenade me from afar; distinctive, delectable scents tickle and tantalise: my senses awash with anticipation as, finally, I lay eyes on my prey. Slowly and surreptitiously, I draw ever closer to my quarry. Prancing and playing, oblivious to the danger I present, their movements trigger something deep inside: something ancient... something powerful... something dark. The need to bite, to rend, to feed, is all-consuming; but I am no monster, driven by base desires. Salivating, I cast off my instinctive urges, instead focusing on a solitary sentinel positioned on the periphery of the pack. Suddenly, it jerks its head in my direction. Keeping my back down, I drop as low as I can, pressing myself into the frozen ground. Enormous paws clamp across my jet-black snout, effectively camouflaging me against the ice, as my mother taught me and her mother before her. I remain motionless, barely even breathing... time stretches interminably and, just when age-old bestial instincts threaten to re-emerge, the sentry finally returns its attention to its frolicking brethren. I skulk ever-closer... closer... closer... and then: I POUNCE! Swinging my massive right paw in a blur of motion, I land a surgical strike on my unwitting victim's neck. Fulgurating talons sink deep into its flesh, gouging multiple parallel crimson furrows. In the ensuing chaos, the rest of the herd scatters, thwarting my hopes of snaring a second kill. I cast a gaze at the pitiful creature pinned beneath me, somehow still clutching to life. Unmoved by its whimpered mewls, I tear out the remnants of its throat with my teeth. My roar reverberates around the landscape, before I feast on the still-steaming corpse at my feet. Seconds later, a response... weaker, but no less fearsome and my heretofore unseen protégé progeny suddenly bounds across the tundra towards me. I step to one side and he immediately buries his head in the ragged opening I've already torn in the carcass. Masticating noisily, he savours his first taste of blubber. I note with satisfaction his scarlet-stained snout and the viscera-drenched fur around his maw. He has learnt his lesson well. Whatever your impression of us, know this: we are not cute; we are not cuddly. We are furry furies, snow-encrusted behemoths and apex predators: the absolute pinnacle of the food chain. Should our paths ever cross, you'd do well to remember that. --------- 3 December 2017 For Julia Ward's "Polar Bears" contest.