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 The cities... Well, they burn. People still in their homes. Some even in hospitals. Not even sparing schools. Whole societies crippled. Families torn apart. Famine reaching near all. Well, all that are left. Pain and sorrow soak the air. A mist tinging everything a shade of hollow gray. Shadows so dark, you might get lost. Well, there isn't much left to get lost in. Nothing really. Nothing but rubble. Then, almost as if to spite it all, light chatter starts. One filled with something we thought was lost. Small laughs, still tears but they try. A small moment here and there between the weeping as they pull their dead from the broken stones and fallen beams. A murmur through the crowds sharing scraps of food. A gentle whisper gaining, layer after layer, another whisper added. Growing till all that is felt is hope it will end. Hope that the pain will slow and eb. That small moment, turned it all. That child trying to get their little sibling to laugh. It's the first time in a week, parents are gone. But they got to eat, again, the first time in a week. They heard others were trying to help. It's not as bad as it could be...right? Could be that everyone wished for them to suffer. It could be every single being wishing for their destruction. But they heard it. A promise. Like not so long ago. Promises over an old broken radio. Pristine voices, unfeeling, unknowing of the quibbling. Then someone broke through all that, they gave the young. The old, something we all were missing. Hope. That someday, through all the pain and retched torment, we will all be free. Free, fed, housed, clothed, and cared for. So they sit and they hope that this horrible mess with ease. While the grown watch, lost in this small moment of hope. Even if they remember all the times before. They can't bring themselves to break the last thing the young ones have. No matter how they wish to warn. So they silently, looking to each other, passing items, helping and agreeing. We will end it for them. We must.
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