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 Before they silence my voice Under jackboots and bone crushing dogs I must set fort before dusk As I am shielded By his gore And crafted like Daniel In the lions den And Jonah in the whales gut I must scurry to ventilate With my traducers At the gate Because they engage nocturnally I shall not look for a black goat At the witching hour I discern they loathe me And my kind They hiss, gnash their canine When they hear my strange name They curse the day I was sculptured They question why My palms, sole are snow While my soul case nocturnal? Their revered face, soul case is snow, innocuous But entrails insidious As a welders fork Forty friend's, fiends, foe and counting Looking for a straw In hay sack Sneaking, feigning, meandering; They huff, puff, Sniffle, shuffle and snizzle, Insidiously, frantically, scamper For a Judas To bell the cat, dog How do you bell a cat, dog, With nine lives? They mob, sop, smother you Like ants swam honey Then, Forget that like amoeba Your outer layer Is a cyst Which immune your entrails From vultures insidious fangs Alas, Spider's web, bobby traps, mines litter around But, A tortoise never gets Enmeshed in a spider's web, Big Ben never irretrievably hushed Or a monkey ambushed Trailing a snakes shadow This jaunt is not for the faint-hearted I have journeyed forty days, nights In the lions den In my arsenal is locusts and wild honey My traducers eyes are crossed; They are hard at hearing Their necks are stiff, They love gold, silver More than good name I shall ventilate What their fore fathers Did to prophets before me; Chastising them with whips, scorpion And because they denied me honor, I must shake my dust off Their door posts.
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