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 ‘We played wedding songs, and you didn’t dance, so we played funeral songs, and you didn’t weep’ Luke 7:32b Scribes and Pharisees, lean in. They lean away, their fingertips at play, nimble, with no paper cut. The pipers toot out a jig and they scowl; then a dirge and they skirt. Skittish of prophetic noise, they amble for their toys and go on walkabouts to gather up the fish before the net goes out. Digits, hush, or like the dastardly, wiggle about underhandedly. Scribes and Pharisees, at the skirt of the Savior, don’t recognize his mild behavior; they criticize. Whereas, one woman chances to believe, to receive power to be healed of her infirmity; Pharisees harrumph to repeal - “not on the Sabbath!” The scroll rolls out like a red carpet, snatched back up. It is only for the designated driver to enforce. And enforce with force, he does; take his pill. Chill while each stays blind, lame, deaf, demonic. The wise that hide their eyes in Jesus’ hem, go left and right, on the narrow. Miracles and forgiveness of hidden rose petals. Heaven is dung to those who would rather cling to popularity, religiosity, to their perfect life. And what will they have at the end of the dusty trail. No one to listen to them. Will every day be like a Sabbath, where they aren’t allowed to pick up their mat and escape through heaven’s gate? Yet, they shall see the walk of their enemies, piled high smiles, the light before darkness, fire and brimstone, hell to be exact. Never again will they catch a glimpse of what they lost, though they try to unscramble their minds, lost to forever time, without a save.
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