Greeting Card Maker | Poem Art Generator

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)

Enter Author Name (Not Required)

Move Text:

Heading Text

       
Color:

Main/Poem Text

       
Color:
Background Position Alignment:
  | 
 

Upload Image: 
 


 
 10mb max file size

Use Internet Image:




Like: https://www.poetrysoup.com/images/ce_Finnaly_home_soare.jpg  
Layout:   
www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry
The Zombies of Zander Ranch, Part I
I. Sol stared down the empty trail before him, looking to see what waited in the dim, the Zander Ranch was the place from the note, they’d written of evils born beyond hope. So Sol approached atop his sturdy horse, wondering if the scourge would break his course, he’d met the undead in battle before, and always thought fighting zombies a chore. They weren’t that impressive, brainless, slow, but traveled in packs wherever they rose, it was sheer numbers that made them a pain, those they killed joined them, aiding their reign. But they were the evil he’d come to fight, ahead of him he saw a faint lamp light, that must be the place, but he sensed trouble, saw some shadows on the ground shuffle. One rose and walked, a slow, limping pace, and Sol saw a rotting Indian’s face, they’d fought the army, back a few years, now some power drove them, that much was clear. Not proud warriors, they were not themselves, just walking meat, possessed by pure Hell, like all zombies they straight for the living, Sol pulled his rifle and wasn’t forgiving. He shot for the head, the lead one went down, the noise made six more fiends turn around. They lumbered his way, he shot from his horse, but for each he killed, there rose up two more. Not just the Indians, but cavalry, moldering blue wool, faces with no teeth, foes once in life, stalking him with one mind, he circled and fired, time after time. But the revenants numbered near one hundred, they surrounded Sol, this army of dead, and one little one made for the ranch door, which then flung open to Sol’s great horror. He saw a woman appear in the light, she called out,”Arthur!” then he leapt to bite, the woman screamed as her dead son bit deep, Sol pushed his horse on, trampling with its feet. He broke through to the ranch, raced for the house, with a shot blew zombie son’s dead brains out, then with no care, he raced his horse inside, he would not leave his old mount out to die. Sol leapt for his horse just to see the wife in jerky motions take infernal life, her face was gray, and all covered in veins, the rancher went for her—was the man insane? So Sol shot forwards, his gun fired its load, he kicked the wife backwards, slammed the door closed. “You can’t save them now!”he angrily said, “Your son and your wife are already dead!” The rancher went numb, he could not reply, a teen daughter appeared, scared look in her eyes, she sat her pa down, then stood in his sight, said,”My name is Rose, it was I who did write…”
Copyright © 2024 David Welch. All Rights Reserved

Book: Shattered Sighs