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 Old Church Revisited
The space is smaller than what was measured by memory, the stained glass windows much less vibrant compared to what glowed brightly in the light of back then. The pews have been worn down to bare wood by sliding bums and where arms have rested or fidgeted in prayer. I genuflect, prompted by some remnant of habit, out of a sense of respect, then take a seat. Peeling paint sheets the walls not in wear, but in neglect. In places an amber sheen coats where candle smoke has left a nicotine like stain after decades of petitions. I wonder how many were fulfilled. The brass candle rack has a two stubs that sit like the last remaining teeth in empty gums. The white marble altar that once seemed to soar to a height scraping the very hem of heaven now could be scaled by a modest ladder. Six years old, I stood before it in terror. Hidden away within its chambers behind golden doors there was a God who could send me to hell. I had nowhere to hide. Surely, no God would want to be here now in such a place. Everything in this building speaks of an absence, a sad vacancy that was once filled with a weighted presence whether real or imagined. There are no flowers to sweeten the air or whispered prayers from a visiting soul to sanctify the quiet. And yet there are relics here, echoes that bypass the ear, shadows that seem to reach up out of the silence like extended hands pulling at my mind. I am not sure whether it is the clutch of the drowning wanting to be saved or the other way around.
Copyright © 2024 Paul Willason. All Rights Reserved

Book: Reflection on the Important Things