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 Plutonium ensures growth. More Plutonium, more growths. Fewer bombs increase the risk of unemployment. More bombs increase the risk of employment. Bombs for peace. More bombs, more pieces. Bombs to profit this nation. More bombs, more profits. Bombs bring potential enemies to the table. More bombs, more potential enemies, more tables. Bombs deter enemies from using bombs against us. More bombs deter more enemies from using more bombs against us. Bombs aid the construction industry. More bombs, more constructions. Funny, when I was a little boy, I thought All bombs could do was explode. How Far We’ve Come Back in the Dark Ages with their lack of drains, hygiene, refuse disposal and community dustmen, Ignorance and superstition reigned rats and hogs. Spreading from the Black Sea, the Black Death Brought half of Europe to its grave. After the fall Of Constantinople, a century on, came the New Learning and the Renaissance, when Man was proud of being Man. New worlds were discovered; science was born. For Francis Bacon science was the source of power: “Nature obey if you would be her lord.” Later it was realized, utopias with clean streets Must be defended, and that by science. Now the rockets stand erect, poised to poison, To spill the obscene beans and bugs to finish off. Do up those buttons, Adam, or you return to dust Before your time, lest the last mass turbulence Reveals too late to what impotence Our potent forces lead. Who then will ask Or answer why our best minds, blind only To the obvious, served to devise the means Of mass destruction in the hire of governments Of the people, by the people, for the people Left dead or dying with no one to erect Crosses to them in the shade of Adam’s tree? While the True Vine cries” “Father, why..?,” And heady Dionysus notes how potent was his drug, Adam haves one final, futile, groan, Upon this dark eve.
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