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 They named the place My Lai, but it echoes as my lie— a soft syllable wrapping a hard truth, a village turned into a footnote because paperwork needed calm language. Hands pulled triggers, yes— but mouths followed later, buttoned up in uniforms of denial, calling orders “confusion,” calling mercy “collateral.” The men who did it said they were young, said war made them smaller inside, said fear spoke first. The men who defended it said nothing at all, which was louder. My Lai, my lie: the lie that obedience washes blood, the lie that flags forgive, the lie that courts move faster than graves. Fast-forward—new borders, same boots. ICE knocks before dawn, children memorize door hinges instead of dreams. Different language, same math: remove the inconvenient, file the rest. And the world watches, professionally concerned. Statements issued, hands wrung, feeds refreshed. Outrage expires quicker than milk, and empathy needs a subscription plan. Wars keep happening with better cameras. Killing now comes with talking points, and silence has learned to sound neutral. My Lai isn’t past— it’s practiced, rebranded, exported. My lie is thinking distance absolves me, that history stays buried if renamed. My Lai asks again, without shouting: who benefits from forgetting, and who is still alive because we don’t?
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