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
"When a man who is drinking neat gin starts talking about his mother he is past all argument." C.S. Forester's "The African Queen” MOTHER (A MUTTERING) My sweetheart gin is cast. I stare at her reflective glass. Like a crystal ball I see the past. A small boy in prayer at mass. Oh how blessed is my sweet Ma. Her sweet lips pressed to my brow. Back many years, I obeyed the law. Now swirls of sin seek the cutlass-crow. Her handkerchief, fringed with soft lace, would erase the smudge of familial rift. Her tender hands’d touch my small impish face, until the day I’d hop a ship and wrongly drift with suntanned palms, filled with whorish gin, to never see the waterfall, the etch of tears, the gray-spun wool that prayed to squelch my sin. Oh mother, if I could find those wasted years. I lay my head down on this feverishly cold bar. Every muttering sold as slave to my abysmal past. Your sky blue eyes hearken from heaven — so far from the deepest well of wailing gin, that sinks me fast. Ne’er woman clothed in silk or satin bait, were as attentive as my ma’s eyes of grace. Foolhardy fisherman, I’ve hooked my fate. Now I drown my sorrows, in the darkest place. 2/25/2018 Gin In The Morning contest Sponsored by Julia Ward

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

Mother

"When a man who is drinking neat gin starts talking about his mother he is past all argument." C.S. Forester's "The African Queen” MOTHER (A MUTTERING) My sweetheart gin is cast. I stare at her reflective glass. Like a crystal ball I see the past. A small boy in prayer at mass. Oh how blessed is my sweet Ma. Her sweet lips pressed to my brow. Back many years, I obeyed the law. Now swirls of sin seek the cutlass-crow. Her handkerchief, fringed with soft lace, would erase the smudge of familial rift. Her tender hands’d touch my small impish face, until the day I’d hop a ship and wrongly drift with suntanned palms, filled with whorish gin, to never see the waterfall, the etch of tears, the gray-spun wool that prayed to squelch my sin. Oh mother, if I could find those wasted years. I lay my head down on this feverishly cold bar. Every muttering sold as slave to my abysmal past. Your sky blue eyes hearken from heaven — so far from the deepest well of wailing gin, that sinks me fast. Ne’er woman clothed in silk or satin bait, were as attentive as my ma’s eyes of grace. Foolhardy fisherman, I’ve hooked my fate. Now I drown my sorrows, in the darkest place. 2/25/2018 Gin In The Morning contest Sponsored by Julia Ward