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 sacred locks severed and with them, the thunder of heaven’s covenant fled. Power, once a roaring mantle upon his shoulders, dissipates like incense in a profane wind. Empty, he stumbles forward, a hollow colossus stripped of divine fire, mere mortal clay now, wandering the scorched corridors of purposeless days. Once a man of destiny, forged in the womb for glory, he grinds at the Philistine mill like a beast of burden, blind eyes staring into eternal night, while revelry drags him deeper into stupor a drunken dance with shadows. Years roll by like indifferent stones, crushing the altars of remembrance. He ignores the signposts blazing along the path of return, scorns the still small voice that once thundered in his bones. Conscience, once a vigilant flame he smothers beneath layers of willful night. Soul-searching reflection lies severed, a broken sword rusting in the dust. There, upon Delilah’s treacherous lap, like a witless fool surrendering the keys of empire, he bartered his anointing for the fleeting nectar of lust. Strength poured out as water upon desert sand. Youthful days raced away on swift, merciless wings those tender whispers of promise now distant echoes of yore. The heart hardens into flint, the conscience sears shut like a branded wound, the will withers, brittle as autumn leaves. Vices take root deeper than ancient cedars, their thorns twisting into the marrow of the soul. Habits form iron chains forged in secret furnaces invisible fetters that bind tighter than any Philistine bronze. Imprisoned without walls, he walks the earth a free man in name alone, yet enslaved to appetites that devour from within. They go on. On they go still the hollow procession of days, a vain, endless caravan searching for peace in the ruins of a fallen Nazarite vow.
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