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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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The faces of the tom-toms were sallow, So was the face of the sun, dark-visaged, Red, and starved through a pogrom That assaulted the peace of the beasts. Darkness spelt the names of diseases, Each pronounced through stiffened tongues, Whited by the scourge of hate – a common Figure, cadaverous and laconic, but incestuous. Grieving rivers sought ways to be rechristened Or rebaptized by holy rills with less fetor, as Long as riparian languages were still spoken on Breaths of brooks, broken, but gathered in bits By hands that leaned on fermented soot only. And darkness persisted, perspiring from hostile Beats of hollow drums when fire reaches them From tormented skies. One truth loomed: the truth of a disvirgined Destiny, clothed in serrated raiment of grief. On its crown, shredded petals of holocausts Form toothless thorns shaped like lightning. Death was prominent, dispirited, and hung loose On strings smelted on anvils raging from heinous Rape of a blooded land. Shores wept with humour When our frightened coasts sneezed with mirth. I speak of Biafra where the land still bleeds I recall that vision, of a crowded city, Where signs were hung in heaven, Where voices were muted by the colour of bold words.

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Behind the Sun

The faces of the tom-toms were sallow, So was the face of the sun, dark-visaged, Red, and starved through a pogrom That assaulted the peace of the beasts. Darkness spelt the names of diseases, Each pronounced through stiffened tongues, Whited by the scourge of hate – a common Figure, cadaverous and laconic, but incestuous. Grieving rivers sought ways to be rechristened Or rebaptized by holy rills with less fetor, as Long as riparian languages were still spoken on Breaths of brooks, broken, but gathered in bits By hands that leaned on fermented soot only. And darkness persisted, perspiring from hostile Beats of hollow drums when fire reaches them From tormented skies. One truth loomed: the truth of a disvirgined Destiny, clothed in serrated raiment of grief. On its crown, shredded petals of holocausts Form toothless thorns shaped like lightning. Death was prominent, dispirited, and hung loose On strings smelted on anvils raging from heinous Rape of a blooded land. Shores wept with humour When our frightened coasts sneezed with mirth. I speak of Biafra where the land still bleeds I recall that vision, of a crowded city, Where signs were hung in heaven, Where voices were muted by the colour of bold words.