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 "There's something in your face, Michael, I've seen it all the day; There's something quare that wasn't there when first ye wint away. . . ." "It's just the Army life, mother, the drill, the left and right, That puts the stiffinin' in yer spine and locks yer jaw up tight. . . ." "There's something in your eyes, Michael, an' how they stare and stare -- You're lookin' at me now, me boy, as if I wasn't there. . . ." "It's just the things I've seen, mother, the sights that come and come, A bit o' broken, bloody pulp that used to be a chum. . . ." "There's something on your heart, Michael, that makes ye wake at night, And often when I hear ye moan, I trimble in me fright. . . ." "It's just a man I killed, mother, a mother's son like me; It seems he's always hauntin' me, he'll never let me be. . . ." "But maybe he was bad, Michael, maybe it was right To kill the inimy you hate in fair and honest fight. . . ." "I did not hate at all, mother; he never did me harm; I think he was a lad like me, who worked upon a farm. . . ." "And what's it all about, Michael; why did you have to go, A quiet, peaceful lad like you, and we were happy so? . . ." "It's thim that's up above, mother, it's thim that sits an' rules; We've got to fight the wars they make, it's us as are the fools. . . ." "And what will be the end, Michael, and what's the use, I say, Of fightin' if whoever wins it's us that's got to pay? . . ." "Oh, it will be the end, mother, when lads like him and me, That sweat to feed the ones above, decide that we'll be free. . . ." "And when will that day come, Michael, and when will fightin' cease, And simple folks may till their soil and live and love in peace? . . ." "It's coming soon and soon, mother, it's nearer every day, When only men who work and sweat will have a word to say; When all who earn their honest bread in every land and soil Will claim the Brotherhood of Man, the Comradeship of Toil; When we, the Workers, all demand: `What are we fighting for?' . . . Then, then we'll end that stupid crime, that devil's madness -- War."
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