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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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I. The letter had come in Nevada’s north, when Sol had been enjoying a blonde whore, only to see it slip under the door, he finished with her, but enjoyed it no more. After she had gone, he read while he rode, in west Oregon hey fought the unknown, a small cattle ranch in the dry uplands was seeing weird things, again and again. Dead animals butchered, weird symbols drawn, some of them on the ranch house’s front lawn, a nergo cook found with her tongue cut out, her hands cut off, to not say what she’d found. Even a young Indian girl found nude, showing signs of every type of abuse, brought in for help and upon seeing men, dropped dead from the fear, her eyes still open. Sol sighed, knowing this was no easy job, but it was still his, by order of God, to destroy living humans in this way meant serious magic to claim the prey. Possession perhaps, or warlocks and witches, deals with the devil were quite malicious, destroying the soul who sought out the deal, using them to achieve damage quiet real. He’d seen in before, back at Roanoke, it his early years out rescuing folk, when witches had left everyone dead, he had been sent in to bring back their heads. By the time he’d got there, they’d cone to natives, started making gruesome sculptures of kids, he’d hunted them down, killed each with a gun, Indians feasted him for what he’d done. They not gotten easier over time, The worst of evils, corrupting the mind, Able to blend in with normal people While working their insidious evil. 10- It was a few days until he arrived, But not to the ranch, he stayed out of sight, Going to the bar to hear the gossip, Amazing what you could learn from loose lips. It wasn’t that long before he heard talk, The kind that made most decent people balk, About seven cattle dead on the range, Their blood used to paint on them symbols strange. Something that bizzarre made people wonder, then a drinking man yelled over yonder, “It’s probably coyotes, you know they’re cruel, no rustler would kill cattle, they’d be fools.” Sol look at the man, and something felt off, so he took a pen, on his hand drew a cross, then moseyed on over, with a broad grin, said, “Are their lots of coyotes up here, friend?” The man looked at him, and said, “Who are you?” Sol said,”Just a man here making his move, looking to buy some land, ranch on my own, put my stake down and built up a new home.” CONTINUES IN PART II.

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Demon 'Punchers, Part I

I. The letter had come in Nevada’s north, when Sol had been enjoying a blonde whore, only to see it slip under the door, he finished with her, but enjoyed it no more. After she had gone, he read while he rode, in west Oregon hey fought the unknown, a small cattle ranch in the dry uplands was seeing weird things, again and again. Dead animals butchered, weird symbols drawn, some of them on the ranch house’s front lawn, a nergo cook found with her tongue cut out, her hands cut off, to not say what she’d found. Even a young Indian girl found nude, showing signs of every type of abuse, brought in for help and upon seeing men, dropped dead from the fear, her eyes still open. Sol sighed, knowing this was no easy job, but it was still his, by order of God, to destroy living humans in this way meant serious magic to claim the prey. Possession perhaps, or warlocks and witches, deals with the devil were quite malicious, destroying the soul who sought out the deal, using them to achieve damage quiet real. He’d seen in before, back at Roanoke, it his early years out rescuing folk, when witches had left everyone dead, he had been sent in to bring back their heads. By the time he’d got there, they’d cone to natives, started making gruesome sculptures of kids, he’d hunted them down, killed each with a gun, Indians feasted him for what he’d done. They not gotten easier over time, The worst of evils, corrupting the mind, Able to blend in with normal people While working their insidious evil. 10- It was a few days until he arrived, But not to the ranch, he stayed out of sight, Going to the bar to hear the gossip, Amazing what you could learn from loose lips. It wasn’t that long before he heard talk, The kind that made most decent people balk, About seven cattle dead on the range, Their blood used to paint on them symbols strange. Something that bizzarre made people wonder, then a drinking man yelled over yonder, “It’s probably coyotes, you know they’re cruel, no rustler would kill cattle, they’d be fools.” Sol look at the man, and something felt off, so he took a pen, on his hand drew a cross, then moseyed on over, with a broad grin, said, “Are their lots of coyotes up here, friend?” The man looked at him, and said, “Who are you?” Sol said,”Just a man here making his move, looking to buy some land, ranch on my own, put my stake down and built up a new home.” CONTINUES IN PART II.