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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.

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THE EVER DWINDLING FEW - USA Version Beach Omaha At Omaha an old man stands and limps down to the shore, Where on this sand he crawled and ran so many years before. The skirl of pipes still in the air, the ceremony o'er, He knows the ghosts who haunt this coast in the fading wake of war. Huddled in their landing craft, together yet alone, Some join a cheer to quell the fear that turns young limbs to stone. Others lost within the thought that chills them to the bone, Not knowing if they'll see again the fields and hills of home. A sudden stop, the ramp is dropped , Omaha revealed, Bullets frothing water, flying shards of red hot steel. A thrown grenade, a shattered leg, his private war soon done, Sheltered by a parapet, he prayed the beach be won. Young men who fell upon this beach who lie not far away, Are still young men among his ken, not having aged a day. They gave their all when duty called, hair never turned to grey. They grew not old as he grew old, no feeble steps for they. For their lost years he'd shed his tears, he'd been there yesterday, Where snow white stones mark where the bones of all the young men lay. They cried “Hurray!” and “USA!” and braved the gates of hell, Now walking slowly down the beach he wanders where they fell. Where chaos reigned and lives were claimed by death's uneven hand, The shore of war is quiet now, a peaceful stretch of sand. Old men in chairs with snow white hair are wheeled down to the shore, They are the ever dwindling few, soon there will be no more. Some there among are the proud sons of those who fought before, Believing they were there to win the war to end all wars. But strife will always be our lot and war will have its day. Silent prayers for those who dared with home so far away. So once a year some come back here where many came before. Warriors then, now ancient men who gather near the shore To honour those who lie in rows, and comrades still beside. A time to grieve and to receive a grateful nation's pride. They are the ever dwindling few, Soon there will be no more. Ellis Pringle Craig, 2023.

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THE EVER DWINDLING FEW - USA version

THE EVER DWINDLING FEW - USA Version Beach Omaha At Omaha an old man stands and limps down to the shore, Where on this sand he crawled and ran so many years before. The skirl of pipes still in the air, the ceremony o'er, He knows the ghosts who haunt this coast in the fading wake of war. Huddled in their landing craft, together yet alone, Some join a cheer to quell the fear that turns young limbs to stone. Others lost within the thought that chills them to the bone, Not knowing if they'll see again the fields and hills of home. A sudden stop, the ramp is dropped , Omaha revealed, Bullets frothing water, flying shards of red hot steel. A thrown grenade, a shattered leg, his private war soon done, Sheltered by a parapet, he prayed the beach be won. Young men who fell upon this beach who lie not far away, Are still young men among his ken, not having aged a day. They gave their all when duty called, hair never turned to grey. They grew not old as he grew old, no feeble steps for they. For their lost years he'd shed his tears, he'd been there yesterday, Where snow white stones mark where the bones of all the young men lay. They cried “Hurray!” and “USA!” and braved the gates of hell, Now walking slowly down the beach he wanders where they fell. Where chaos reigned and lives were claimed by death's uneven hand, The shore of war is quiet now, a peaceful stretch of sand. Old men in chairs with snow white hair are wheeled down to the shore, They are the ever dwindling few, soon there will be no more. Some there among are the proud sons of those who fought before, Believing they were there to win the war to end all wars. But strife will always be our lot and war will have its day. Silent prayers for those who dared with home so far away. So once a year some come back here where many came before. Warriors then, now ancient men who gather near the shore To honour those who lie in rows, and comrades still beside. A time to grieve and to receive a grateful nation's pride. They are the ever dwindling few, Soon there will be no more. Ellis Pringle Craig, 2023.