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)Required SWANSONG England expects Britannia to rule the waves, From the white cliffs of Dover To where the Sun never sets. We’ll keep the Union Jack flying Over this sceptred isle, Set in a silver sea, As a beacon of light To ward off continental types And other undesirables, Especially if they come across in leaky dinghies, Or claim they’re celts of ancient stock. Let the illustrious vessels of our Royal Armada, Let loose with cannon at such easy targets, sink them Without trace as if they’d never been. God bless our Senior Service of jolly tars - They who go down to the ocean To hold, defend our hallowed shores in the spirit Of John Bull and the utter Contemptibles. The iceberg of reality approaches Titanic - Our unsinkable leviathan without need For a full complement of lifeboats, The loose decision made In a smoke-filled boardroom According to the hubristic arrogance Of distinguished gentlemen. Their collective psyche hides the vain Inadequacy of patchwork-repairs To the brittle hull of a false-named ship. A sea's vengeance rushes in Through cracks, the force of the waters, Exposing fault lines in a cards' Prime pack, hurled with the splintered Chaos of a broken cabinet. England can expect nothing But a wet-kipper slap on the face As a reaction to blinkered flights to nowhere; Britannia’s just a grim old hag, Leaning for immortal support on A knobbly, noble shield of state, bent by A rusty clattering of crumpled old age, The white cliffs of Dover, Succumbing to time's ravage, Have become a jagged parapet of yellowing Teeth, gaping in a crooked grimace! Not even an accoutred uniform to put up The guilt-stained sheet for a flag of surrender! No honourable honour guard for Vanished detachment, gone to good Ol' Blighty or the Land of Nod!
Enter Author Name (Not Required)