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)Required She rolls on the dusty ground pulls her hair scratch her skin dress halfway out to a stranger this may look like the Ingoma dance she falls on her knees tears streaming down the cheeks mouth wide but no sound comes of her screams "It has happened again." They utter in whispers She cannot hear the voices Her nerves gone numb eyes light out skin is flooding with goose bums her heart bleeding faster than the body she has scooped on her laps. she is paralyzed by the pain... "Parents should not bury their kids."Bitterly he spit "But when they defy the law we have no choice." He pick the gun and disappear in the thickening crowd. Another body on the ground another bullet to the count To family and friends it is another mistaken identity Police man word is "Dangerous criminal." We could riot in the streets, sing solidarity and slogans but we know what happens each time The order is "Shoot and kill." One by one we will make our way home socked in sadness and disbelief The nation will run a headline "What happened to guilty till proven guilty?" Nothing new really,just a few new punctuations on the last re-run. Human rights groups,NGOs and lobbyist will pick it up,make some noise,attract more donors then go black In the village the drums will echo for a week we will dance round the fire each night calling on our gods for solace. Then on Friday we will put his shattered body six feet under hope our son(s) will find peace beyond the misery of us living. Only right before the flowers on the grave goes faint another son will be on the ground,another bullet to the count And the ritual goes on... Who dare question Uncle Sam?
Enter Author Name (Not Required)