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 Erstwhile his skin was beautiful as an obsidian, with great markings alongside his face, as was the likeness of the Benin people; an imagery so poignant and meaningful. His shoulders were wide, his back strong and his mind resourceful. In his quondam years, the mystery of the Niger River had captured his inquisitive soul and inspired his longings to ride the smooth waves in a Pirogue. A tale far from the likes of any mythical apologue. The spirit of his graceful and modest mother, who lovingly called him Baako, once hunted his dreams. On his hard days and nights, his body cried out from pain and his cheeks were forced upon by relentless water streams. His memory of his proud father of great strength and wisdom once pounded against his brain. In an everlasting refrain. Once, with recapturing flashbacks his mind was flooded with the taunting sounds of the water drums and sticcado. Fast and sweeping rhythmic legato. And his mind automatically reclaimed images of his village, with its thatched roof huts and rows of lifted cultured soils with beans and yams bedded deep, and grass of deeper green. And the days long, and the sun harsh and the nights with brilliant white stars that convene. There, he now lay face down on foreign land with its first winters snow. With his life source seeping deep and wide into soft crystals giving it a crimson glow. Tattered clothes revealed his back; etched with brutal markings liking that of an old twisted and leafless tree. His calloused feet a grayish-blue as the Adriatic sea. His last breath was a moan for his native land. The Mother Land. The harmony of his innate love for his country, his people, and his latent genius and powerful will has been dispersed, wasted and erased.
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