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 "For over a thousand years Roman conquerors returning from the wars enjoyed the honour of triumph, a tumultuous parade. In the procession came trumpeters and musicians and strange animals from the conquered territories together with carts laden with treasure and captured armaments. The conqueror rode in a triumphal chariot, the dazed prisoners walking in chains before him. Sometimes his children, robed in white, stood with him in the chariot or rode the trace horses. A slave stood behind the conqueror holding a golden crown and whispering in his ear a warning: that all glory is fleeting". General George S Patton ***** A great general returned home a triumphant hero ~ victorious. His golden chariot drawn soaring through the sky Entering the city 'neath the arch of a technicolor rainbow. He, dressed in pure and untainted white robes, Savoured the grand and tumultuous procession. And he was honoured ~ he smiled. Amid the fanfare announced by the bright trumpeters And the cheering of the redeemed and grateful crowds He condescended to a small wave of the hand. Before him traipsed his captives, they dressed in chains, Followed by titanic elephants ridden by mischievous monkeys And he was happy ~ he laughed. Yet no children came to greet him, to ride with him, For they owned no white robes to wear on the day. He rode alone, save for his slave bearing his golden crown. No one rode the trace horses to welcome him home, He the glorious, undefeated, returning conqueror. And he was sad ~ he wept. And when he awoke and the world became real once more He found himself assigned to a different place, Where the highway becomes the battlefield. The trumpeters salute had been replaced by a motor horn And, as an olive drab 'Jimmy' crossed his path, he knew it was true; This time he had been defeated and he was beat ~ he submitted. For this would be his finest hour, The hour when all would be revealed. And at that moment, That final moment, He could clearly see it was true That all glory is fleeting. Alan S Jeeves
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