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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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(The Battle for Orgreave Pit) Cries of Zulu as miners rushed the barricades Truncheons banging against riot shields A nation at war with itself Men of South Yorkshire, United in the right to defend their pit Maggie’s the Caesar of capitalism Her legionnaires bought with 30 pieces of silver Brought from the four corners of this septic isle To take away another man’s right. To destroy his culture, his freedom, his way of life A democracy of road blocks and strip searches England for the few While miners live on Pots of rabbit stew Demonised by the elected south, Propaganda their stew. Orgreave, now a place of forgotten ghosts And Coal the driver of this great economic power All gone Memories, now overwhelmed by the banks and the city But power is fleeting, a house of cards For they too have felt the wind of recession So beware the hurricane, or you too might become extinct And what Caesar will save you. Footnote to this poem This poem is about the Miners’ Strike, June 18th 1984 As a young lad and bizarre as it may seem I played in a 5 a side football match at Orgreave Pit on this day. My way was blocked by 1000s of miners and a cordon of Police blocking our access with barriers of Riot Shields. We made our way to the front and asked a Policeman to let us through. To my amazement the cordon opened and we were let through. Behind us was a surge of Miners all shouting Zulu. It must have been a rallying call, for me it was a magnificent site, a place of community rebellion, a place to be proud of. In response the Police beat their shields with truncheons. The sounds were deafening, From the sides mounted police horses galloped into the crowd causing miners to fall and split. This was war without guns. The Miners regrouped and the Cry of Zulu saw miners coming over fields and down the lane charging at the barricade of shields, the sounds of the clashes were unbelievable. At the end of the day I was coming home there were coaches of police holding up their wage packets to the window at the remnants of miners now left, a final insult to the miners. None of this was reported at the time.

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Another Zulu Dawn

(The Battle for Orgreave Pit) Cries of Zulu as miners rushed the barricades Truncheons banging against riot shields A nation at war with itself Men of South Yorkshire, United in the right to defend their pit Maggie’s the Caesar of capitalism Her legionnaires bought with 30 pieces of silver Brought from the four corners of this septic isle To take away another man’s right. To destroy his culture, his freedom, his way of life A democracy of road blocks and strip searches England for the few While miners live on Pots of rabbit stew Demonised by the elected south, Propaganda their stew. Orgreave, now a place of forgotten ghosts And Coal the driver of this great economic power All gone Memories, now overwhelmed by the banks and the city But power is fleeting, a house of cards For they too have felt the wind of recession So beware the hurricane, or you too might become extinct And what Caesar will save you. Footnote to this poem This poem is about the Miners’ Strike, June 18th 1984 As a young lad and bizarre as it may seem I played in a 5 a side football match at Orgreave Pit on this day. My way was blocked by 1000s of miners and a cordon of Police blocking our access with barriers of Riot Shields. We made our way to the front and asked a Policeman to let us through. To my amazement the cordon opened and we were let through. Behind us was a surge of Miners all shouting Zulu. It must have been a rallying call, for me it was a magnificent site, a place of community rebellion, a place to be proud of. In response the Police beat their shields with truncheons. The sounds were deafening, From the sides mounted police horses galloped into the crowd causing miners to fall and split. This was war without guns. The Miners regrouped and the Cry of Zulu saw miners coming over fields and down the lane charging at the barricade of shields, the sounds of the clashes were unbelievable. At the end of the day I was coming home there were coaches of police holding up their wage packets to the window at the remnants of miners now left, a final insult to the miners. None of this was reported at the time.