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 II. When the abbot came to the iron gate he made no move to invite me in, said,”I’ve seen fell creatures before this night, you are a monster of death and of sin.” I said to him,”Yes, that’s what I’ve become, I was forced by a creature depraved, didn’t choose to be what you’re seeing now, but it is said there are none God can’t save. “I no longer feed upon His children, and am tortured by my recent past, I beg you abbot, I need your help, to bring myself back within His grasp.” The abbot said,’While it is very true that no act is beyond the Almighty, how am I to know this isn’t a trick? A way for you to get inside and feed?” In response I pointed to nearby cows that were feeding on grass just outside, said,”For a week I’ll feed only on the kine, you’ve my word not a one of them will die.” And for the next week that’s just what I did, until one night the abbot called me back, said,”I see you’re sincere, besides you can’t feed on brothers who have crosses around their necks.” So I was taken in, given a robe, tasking with watching the grounds after dark, protect things from brigands and highwaymen, guide in lost travelers who’d missed the mark. Some problems arose I had not foreseen, holding bibles made me burst into flames, had to read them on a music stand, singing my fingers when I turned the page. I wasn’t fool enough to touch a cross, but merely kneeling to pray before one caused pins and needle pain in my skin, but I suffered it to gaze upon The Son. The other brothers didn’t trust me at first, don’t blame them for fearing me to no end, but with other monks who didn’t sleep well I soon managed to become fast friends. And for a few years things went rather smooth, the pain of the hollowness did abate, until the man who turned me, my damned sire one night appeared at the monastery’s gate. He could not come in, he was not invited, but he taunted me from outside the wall, called me weak, deluded, a monster at heart, and laughed maliciously at us all. I so wanted to go tear his throat out, but I reason this was part of God’s test, submit to the evil, go out and fight… doom my soul to an endless state of unrest. I beat the temptation that cool, fall night, and resisted again every few years when my sire would come to have a laugh, subject me to his taunts and his jeers. CONTINUES IN PART III.
Enter Author Name (Not Required)