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 B-52: a city on its own. You mess with us, we’ve got technology. I loved it when we flew into the zone: as Ernie said, “We’ll kill ’em till they’re free.” My job? To watch the black cascade of death and myriad explosions in the woods: Louisiana lilt – “You hold your breath,” that’s Ernie’s voice – “delivering the goods!” The pretty serpentine of falling bombs that seemed to slither through the virgin air distracted me from pilot intercoms, and radar monitors’ unblinking glare. We didn’t think – I only speak for me – you’d have to ask my buddies on the crew, if any made it out – of those VC, or what our “dirty chemicals” might do to people down below. We went along with what they told us, Audie Murphy-like. Neil Armstrong was, to us, just one word – “strong”. And dinks and gooks could go and take a hike. That lunar surface. Nothing down there moved. “I guess they won’t be planting no more rice,” - that’s Ernie. Our sophistication proved, we sang the Sound of Music (Edelweiss). By accident, I saw a TV Show last week, some fancy name, “Unceasing Toil”, about those peasants. Watching HBO is not my thing. It said we wrecked their soil and killed their trees. Who, me? I don’t know squat. The gorgeous nebula when napalm bursts is fun from up on high. I’ll tell you what. Phosphorus bombs beat all your Damien Hirsts.
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