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
Never Land Part 6
The birds of pray are on their way, in every beak the Word (of ptomaine tomes by gnarly gnomes) whose meaning is obscured; they roost aloof on every roof, obscene but always herd, to tell the tale of Jonah’s whale and other rhymes absurd - with shifty eyes, they’re giving whys for living life deferred. While jackals lean, hyenas mean, and hungry crocodiles feast in the lounge and never scrounge, lambs languish in the aisle. The naive dare to say “Unfair, let’s try to reconcile. We’ll all relax and weigh the facts, let justice spin the dial.” With jaundiced monks and minds pre-shrunk, the jury is compiled. The Rulers meet, First Ladies greet, the Kings appear in style. Before the Court, their sins are short, they’re swept into a pile; with diatribes and petty bribes, the jurors are beguiled. The Herd entreats, the Shepherd bleats the verdict of the trial: “You have no face. Stay in your place, stay in the Rank and File. And wait instead, for when you’re dead, for riches afterwhile”; Aristocrats add caveats while sailing down the Nile: “If Minds are mugged or simply drugged with philtres in a vial, then few indeed will fail to feed the Pharaoh’s Crocodile.” The wordsmiths spin, the bankers grin and politicians smile, the riff and raff, they never laugh, they mark a martyred mile. The rituals are finished, all, here comes the Reverent Priest. He leads the crowds beneath the clouds, and there the flock is fleeced with crossing signs and bloody wines and consecrated yeast, “The last are first, the rich are cursed.” (The leached remain the least.) His step is gay without dismay before his evening feast; he thanks the Lord for room and board and bows to Eden East; he doesn’t sigh or wonder why the sins have not decreased. The sinking sun is now undone, the sky is fading red. A spider black hides in a crack and spins a silken thread and babes will soon collapse and swoon, on curbs they call a bed; with vacant eyes they'll fantasize and dream of gingerbread, and so be freed, though still in need, from anguish of the dead. Continued
Copyright © 2024 Terry O'Leary. All Rights Reserved

Book: Reflection on the Important Things