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 Lay me to rest in marbled halls with angels at my head, not lying here in the mud of Ypres with khaki turning red. Let me die a noble death, one that's worth fighting for, not to avenge a nobleman who I've never heard of before. Let me die an old man's death, in my bed at the witching hour and laid to rest in an old churchyard, 'neath a yew trees spreading bower. Instead of a fox hole in Cairo, choking on blood and sand, with the smell of cordite on the air and a letter from home in my hand. Why am I here in North Korea defending a hill to the death? When I should be with the kids at home and my darling sweetheart, Beth. Instead of which I lie in this ditch watching my life seep away and they'll bury me here in an unmarked grave, on this bloody hill far away. What do I care if Saigon falls? North or South, nothing mattered, what do I care for the Rouge Khmer when my body lies here, shattered. My watery grave this killing field, fertiliser for next years crop. Is this to be my legacy? Please God help to make it all stop! Another year, yet other wars, in landscapes barren and hostile, on a crusade in Iraq or Afghan, both situations are volatile. My life cut short by an IED defending a wadi in Tikrit, my sun bleached bones, washed by the desert, my ultimate Kismet. And still the Hawks harry the Doves, favouring might over right, no matter the religion, the creed or the colour, be they black or white. The body bags mount, the widows wail and children are orphaned once more, all in the name of the most profitable business on Earth which we call war.
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