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 Funeral in 1963 Beveled dusty cracked glass shielding Mother Mary enthroned, Amidst flying angelic devotions atop whipped clouds of icy air, Enslaved by an antique miracle made manifest in stained blood, With silent invisible memorized prayers uttered in ancient Latin refrains, Bowed before upright holy statues and a gold-encrusted grand altar, He stood back-turned under a dead Jesus hiding his whispering sanctified face, And the mysterious movements of his ten pious anointing fingers; As with an airy fountain, he hosed Unction’s graces to the stone seekers, Bestowing divine mercies by sealed envelope and a black vestment, The lofty partial indulgences, the immaculate plenary indulgences, Abundantly delivered and received using withy baskets and black beads. Hollow dry penances offered up in a confessing private darkness of sorrow, Within the squeezing superior stares of the priestly knot and the white Alb, Altar boys on knees beckoning the impulsive turning of the holy human heart; The struggled speaking of final toxic words on a red bleeding gurney; Unsaid rosaries and scapular penances finding rusted, grinding precisions; Broken trust and scarred faith wilting within clay idols and bloody crosses. There is imminent death in the still waiting, there is red agony without the pain. Black funeral wallowing within the hushed bereaved church at noon tide in 1963, Sunken gray corpse of a woman serene, reposing waxlike in her beige groping coffin; Grieving-suited witnesses and black-devouring shades standing wooden in dreadful silence, Wondering when it will be their turn, their moment, to jump from this terrified earth, These undead survivors, these breathing refugees of Unction’s graces, Remembering now, their concealed matinee kissing games at the seedy Pillbox.
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