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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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For Tom's 1984 The Fall of Big Brother In the dark soil beneath the weight of stone and silence, the meek are not mere shadows, they are tubers, reaching deep in furtive places, attracted by the throb of earth’s abandoned wisdom, nourished by murmurs from organic charcoaled scrolls, faded fusain etchings, and ageless voices interred in the dust. The surface cracks open in silence, quiet shoots, that tremble at first, slowly stimulate, soon infusing the veins of the earth with life. The weak do not break in fear, they weave like vines, twirling toward the zenith. Each node they gather is a leaf, each bud, a fibre of strength. They do not rage with the storm, but in the slow turning of seasons, they grow... The martinet’s canopy is but hollowed branches, its strength is not in the vigor of its limbs, but in the roots, it deems it controls. Yet, roots multiply beneath the surface, Silent, unstoppable, Turning the soil until the earth itself rises. The language of the world is written in the earth, and the meek now speak it fluently. They do not ask for permission. They are the outburst of small things growing through cracks, creating an unshakable forest, overrunning the walls of the empire. Through knowledge and unity, they cradle the sun’s heat in their hands. And when the crown falls, it is not with a sound of thunder, but with the soft rustle of leaves that once whispered fear, now screaming freedom.

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Roots of Rebellion

For Tom's 1984 The Fall of Big Brother In the dark soil beneath the weight of stone and silence, the meek are not mere shadows, they are tubers, reaching deep in furtive places, attracted by the throb of earth’s abandoned wisdom, nourished by murmurs from organic charcoaled scrolls, faded fusain etchings, and ageless voices interred in the dust. The surface cracks open in silence, quiet shoots, that tremble at first, slowly stimulate, soon infusing the veins of the earth with life. The weak do not break in fear, they weave like vines, twirling toward the zenith. Each node they gather is a leaf, each bud, a fibre of strength. They do not rage with the storm, but in the slow turning of seasons, they grow... The martinet’s canopy is but hollowed branches, its strength is not in the vigor of its limbs, but in the roots, it deems it controls. Yet, roots multiply beneath the surface, Silent, unstoppable, Turning the soil until the earth itself rises. The language of the world is written in the earth, and the meek now speak it fluently. They do not ask for permission. They are the outburst of small things growing through cracks, creating an unshakable forest, overrunning the walls of the empire. Through knowledge and unity, they cradle the sun’s heat in their hands. And when the crown falls, it is not with a sound of thunder, but with the soft rustle of leaves that once whispered fear, now screaming freedom.