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 The pale moon shone brightly through the naked branches of Briarwood Cemetery. It, being an odd time to go in and pay respects, due to work and other obligations, this became the only available time. Thank goodness for that moon and the light it cast, as I could actually see better, almost clearer in the moonlight. The only thing I didn’t see was that dog that greeted me fiercely when I approached the gate. It took a bite, but ran off before I could even swat at it. Funny, the blood seems to have stopped flowing and my hearing, too, has become more acute. I remembered where her headstone was and what turns needed to be made to get there, but for some reason I didn’t make it there with the flowers and prayers. In fact, what had happened next can not be remembered, but there was this smell. It’s hard to describe, but this smell was putrid yet so tempting. I remember feeling like I had to find the source of the smell, but it seemed to be moving. Wait, there was a face and there, too, was screaming, but the smell, I can’t place. Wait! Blood. That’s it, the smell was blood and it was fresh. Then after that all became hazy as I watched the moon transform into sharpened focus. Now, I’ve just awakened near to my car. There’s dry blood on my face, but I do not feel hurt or injured and my clothes, well they’re tattered and torn. I hear sirens in the distance and can’t figure out if I should run or stay, but my gut feeling, almost like an animal instinct tells me to run and hide, perhaps to return later.
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