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 That Taliban bomb Blew Johnny to a bed And when he woke up He wished he were dead And when Johnny finally came home He wasn’t marching there Just sitting in an ambulance Alongside his new wheelchair So it’s goodbye Johnny to squaddie life The billet and his mates They’ll miss him for maybe a little while But fate is fate is fate There were no brass bands to meet him Just his family no more For Johnny was one of the victims Of a politicians war And they still make their speeches But they don’t give a No blood splashes their tail coats When a squaddie’s hit And Johnny will get his pension To go quietly away And be remembered once a year Every Poppy Day He’ll have to fight for every penny Fight just to survive For he’s embarrassed his leaders Just by being alive Carry your shield or be carried on it Was the ancient Spartan way Oh how our glorious leaders wish that Were the creed today But they stand at the Cenotaph Year after year after year And shed the latest versions Of their crocodile tears And Johnny learned a lesson If he never knew it before There ain’t any glory mates In marching off to war When Johnny finally came home He wasn’t marching there Just sitting in an ambulance Alongside his new wheelchair And that Taliban bomb Reverbs reverbs reverbs in his head And Johnny, our poor Johnny Still wishes he were dead
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