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 wicked world, in this age is full of sin, All youth have a lust for the obscene; The hour has come to cleanse the skin, Our bodies, no longer temples, are unclean; One may find all will feel an eternal wrath For treading such an erroneous path; There are innumerable truths one must tell To save oneself from the scorch of hell; All humankind shall take the blame- For creating its own perpetual cell, Now, all will feel the singe of the flame. We all ride upon the devil’s fin, Leaving the place God gave us, so serene; Everyone scowls, not a single grin- As if all were programmed like a machine, We head closer towards our fiery bath, Having followed the ways of the golden calf, All personalities cease, recoiled into a shell- As we find ourselves where we will forever dwell; To us this is no longer a petty game, We hear a chime, though from no bell; Now, all will feel the singe of the flame. If only there was a way to win, If only the planet still has its’ sheen; If only the starving were not so thin, We may have breathed in an afterworld of clean, The antichrist himself approaches, he carries a staff- As he steps near us, we hear his demonic laugh, There is a stench, different than any earthly smell; Some begin to shed tears, some begin to yell, Many tilt their heads to the ground, with shame, This fire is permanent, one we cannot quell; Now, all will feel the singe of the flame. The interminable sorrow shall now begin, Satan taunts us, growling in a fashion immensely mean; He brings forth pasts, to everyone’s chagrin, We pray to our king-God, and to Mary, our queen; There is no remorse now, no reason to chaff; No way to recalculate our sins through math, The regret within us will continue to swell; Our bodies have left us, now our souls jell, We have accomplished something that was not our aim- Perhaps we were under Satan’s own spell, Now, all will feel the singe of the flame.
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