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.



Enter Title (Not Required)

Enter Poem or Quote (Required)

Enter Author Name (Not Required)

Move Text:

Heading Text

       
Color:

Main/Poem Text

       
Color:
Background Position Alignment:
  | 
 

Upload Image: 
 


 
 10mb max file size

Use Internet Image:




Like: https://www.poetrysoup.com/images/ce_Finnaly_home_soare.jpg  
Layout:   
www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry
Something About The Trees
I remember what my father told me:
There is an age when you are most yourself.

He was just past fifty then,
Was it something about the trees that make him speak?

There is an age when you are most yourself.

I know more than I did once.

Was it something about the trees that make him speak?
Only a single leaf had turned so far.


I know more than I did once.

I used to think he'd always be the surgeon.

Only a single leaf had turned so far,
Even his body kept its secrets.


I used to think he'd always be the surgeon,
My mother was the perfect surgeon's wife.

Even his body kept its secrets.

I thought they both would live forever.


My mother was the perfect surgeon's wife,
I can still see her face at thirty.

I thought they both would live forever.

I thought I'd always be their child.


I can still see her face at thirty.

When will I be most myself?
I thought I'd always be their child.

In my sleep it's never winter.


When will I be most myself?
I remember what my father told me.

In my sleep it's never winter.

He was just past fifty then.
Written by: Linda Pastan

Book: Reflection on the Important Things