Home » Poems » Poetry Art » Poetry Art / Greeting Card Maker

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.

Text
Layout
Background

Enter Title (Not Required)

Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required
...Outside the French guns continued to screech, a blast rocked them all, and opened a breach, morale was fading, beginning to sag, the next day the French sent out a truce flag. Ned watched from afar, he could not see the dispatches held by the enemy were from the same runners Munro had sent south, with orders straight from General Webb’s mouth. He’d not left Fort Edward, not sent more troops, against the French force he feared he would lose, and open the road south to Albany, a prize he’d not give to the enemy. As Munro came back to think on the terms, once more the French guns began to thunder, Ned just hunkered amongst the dying and dead, their lives all hanging on what Munro said. Munro was no fool, he knew they were beat, and would not let his men die needlessly, the terms were good, they could keep their muskets unloaded, and march south out of this mess. They’d agree to not fight for eighteen months, a decent parole, if there ever was one, when Ned heard the word he felt great relief, to go home was the only thing he did seek. But the next morning, deep inside the fort some Indians sought the ‘spoils of war,’ not knowing or understanding the truce they took the knife to wounded British troops. Montcalm was shocked by custom such as this, French troops tired to get tribesmen to desist, but the Indians weren’t happy at that, they’d promised plunder, now the French had gone back! Montcalm used the night to form a column of British survivors, wives and littles ones, wanted to keep them from Indian blades, but the next morning, as they all made way from the woods around them Indians charged, Ned heard their war cries, and was quite alarmed, the savages came, grabbing for guns and clothes, all who resisted fell under their blows. They swarmed through the camp, where wounded still lay, slaughtered the souls who could not run away, stormed over the column, Ned tried to get clear, his weapon useless, his heart bound by fear. He picked through the people, kept his head down, used all the chaos to try to gain ground, but near the front he caught a young brave’s eye, who then approached him with war club held high. Ned froze in fear, his mind wouldn’t respond, the brave shouted louder as he came on, expected a broken foe who’d submit, but Ned grasped his rifle, and swung for it. CONTINUES IN PART IV.

Enter Author Name (Not Required)

Move Text:

Heading Text

Color:

Main/Poem Text

Color:

Layout: TallShort

www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry

Massacre At William Henry, Part Iii

...Outside the French guns continued to screech, a blast rocked them all, and opened a breach, morale was fading, beginning to sag, the next day the French sent out a truce flag. Ned watched from afar, he could not see the dispatches held by the enemy were from the same runners Munro had sent south, with orders straight from General Webb’s mouth. He’d not left Fort Edward, not sent more troops, against the French force he feared he would lose, and open the road south to Albany, a prize he’d not give to the enemy. As Munro came back to think on the terms, once more the French guns began to thunder, Ned just hunkered amongst the dying and dead, their lives all hanging on what Munro said. Munro was no fool, he knew they were beat, and would not let his men die needlessly, the terms were good, they could keep their muskets unloaded, and march south out of this mess. They’d agree to not fight for eighteen months, a decent parole, if there ever was one, when Ned heard the word he felt great relief, to go home was the only thing he did seek. But the next morning, deep inside the fort some Indians sought the ‘spoils of war,’ not knowing or understanding the truce they took the knife to wounded British troops. Montcalm was shocked by custom such as this, French troops tired to get tribesmen to desist, but the Indians weren’t happy at that, they’d promised plunder, now the French had gone back! Montcalm used the night to form a column of British survivors, wives and littles ones, wanted to keep them from Indian blades, but the next morning, as they all made way from the woods around them Indians charged, Ned heard their war cries, and was quite alarmed, the savages came, grabbing for guns and clothes, all who resisted fell under their blows. They swarmed through the camp, where wounded still lay, slaughtered the souls who could not run away, stormed over the column, Ned tried to get clear, his weapon useless, his heart bound by fear. He picked through the people, kept his head down, used all the chaos to try to gain ground, but near the front he caught a young brave’s eye, who then approached him with war club held high. Ned froze in fear, his mind wouldn’t respond, the brave shouted louder as he came on, expected a broken foe who’d submit, but Ned grasped his rifle, and swung for it. CONTINUES IN PART IV.