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 Arrived is now Spring, The scents of flowers scattered in the fields Awaken feelings of sleeping children. Here, the breeze that goes Between flowering almonds. There, weeping of poplars Are spreading like white snow. Far away, along the path, White magnolias Inebriate us with their essences. Children around Are preparing to weave Tales born of their dreams And entrusted to the wind Like their joys. In the shadow of the willows, I can hear The babbling of rascal brooks, While, at the crossroads of the country path, I spot the magpies Chasing each other in spiteful carousels. Little girls seated on the steps of the Church Comb their dolls while trying gestures Learned from their mothers. As a child, I would flee to gallop Towards distant shores of hope, Towards the sun reclining on hilly roundness. The joy that awakens From the lazy winter gorges Soothes us all to sing heartfelt praises In our throbbing hearts. The enchantment overwhelms The gaze of an infant Who reposes at the slowness of the wind While caressing his hair. Lizards and reptiles Overlook the boulders Admiring undeterred sunny rocks. Far away, messy clouds caress Still and blue horizons While the cliffs reverberate With the squawk of opaline seagulls. And when the heat of the yellow planet Falls behind the last hills, There appears the moon To inspire gipsy guitars, Love plots of Young peasants, And the fantasies and amusements Of children in the courtyards Of the yellow farmhouses.
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