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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www.poetrysoup.com - Create a card from your words, quote, or poetry
Point Of No Return
They said the sun would rise again, But not how red it burns at dawn— A bleeding orb above the hills, Where shadows march and boys are drawn. We kissed our mothers’ hands goodbye, The station rang with rust and steam. Our boots were new, our hearts unscarred, Still halfway clinging to a dream. The sergeant’s voice was gravel-rough, It ground the child from out our skin. He spoke of duty, blood, and soil, And drew the line we crossed within. Mud clings like guilt to every heel, A second skin of broken earth. We carve our names in trenches deep, And pray they’ll mark our measure's worth. The sky is bruised with smoke and fire, Each star now stares with hollow eyes. The moon looks pale, ashamed to shine On fields where innocence now lies. I saw a man who looked like me— His helmet split, his fingers curled. He mouthed a name I couldn’t catch Before he left this iron world. And yet we charge when bugles scream, Like leaves thrown into God’s own flame. We hold the line for those behind, Though none of us return the same. At night, I write in trembling ink, To someone I may never see. "Dear Ma," it starts, then bleeds with truth— Your boy is gone, but still I breathe. This path we tread is paved in bone, A bitter road of blackened fern. The wind behind us whispers low; We’ve passed the point of no return.
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