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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 Silence of War Behind the Curtains of a church window Men in Prayer, orchestrated by sweat and Lice Find relief from snipers gaze Beside the cross sits the last candle Flickering precariously, searching for sanctuary from the wind But the wick is near the end And so are these men The Harvest of War is almost in For this is November 1918. The German guns call like the song of the Siren Irresistible, for only the dead will hear New orders to cross the Sambre-Oise Canal Another postcard for Historians to write. Machine gunners scythe the ranks Gone the Irish regiment, clover for the beast I take shelter behind a splintered Oak Tree Once magnificent, A survivor of Natures glory Now a hideous spectre to man’s intervention. I wait here with Wilf my captain Waiting for death to find me The mud beckoning for blood, The Canal red like the River Sticks A feed for tomorrows Newspaper. A groan from wilf, his eyes start to dim Fear brings the Lord’s Prayer to my lips A last haven for my soul to cling I watch his spirit fly away, As the words fade from my voice Like so many others on this day of carnage Wilf, my friend, died November 4th 1918 Yet another contribution to this dark harvest, Another soul for god to tender. A statistic, a casualty of war, To be remembered generically A wreath to share with a multitude of lost darlings, Another photograph to fade on the mantel piece A piece of History for a grieving widow to dust In the ranks of the dead Angels count our losses What dreams did we lose? What voices were made silent? What books were never written? And how many tomorrows gone, Lost in the darkness of death? Under this oak tree, fading from memory A soldier Wilfred Owen was taken too Unspoken truth in unspoken poems Silent to mortal’s ear Another casualty of war A feast of wisdom for angels to keep? For His words were far too much, for the hogs of war to stomach. His poetry made silent by country’s shame, Unpatriotic, not cricket old bean said the generals Only now, through peace can we learn The voice of one soldier, How I pity humanity For silence is a killer Democracy, and justice its victim, And the inevitable Silence of war will kill us all. Footnote On this day November 4th 1918, Wilfred Owen killed in action, Sambre-Oise Canal, 7 days from Sanity One of England’s Finest War Poets.

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The Silence of War

The Silence of War Behind the Curtains of a church window Men in Prayer, orchestrated by sweat and Lice Find relief from snipers gaze Beside the cross sits the last candle Flickering precariously, searching for sanctuary from the wind But the wick is near the end And so are these men The Harvest of War is almost in For this is November 1918. The German guns call like the song of the Siren Irresistible, for only the dead will hear New orders to cross the Sambre-Oise Canal Another postcard for Historians to write. Machine gunners scythe the ranks Gone the Irish regiment, clover for the beast I take shelter behind a splintered Oak Tree Once magnificent, A survivor of Natures glory Now a hideous spectre to man’s intervention. I wait here with Wilf my captain Waiting for death to find me The mud beckoning for blood, The Canal red like the River Sticks A feed for tomorrows Newspaper. A groan from wilf, his eyes start to dim Fear brings the Lord’s Prayer to my lips A last haven for my soul to cling I watch his spirit fly away, As the words fade from my voice Like so many others on this day of carnage Wilf, my friend, died November 4th 1918 Yet another contribution to this dark harvest, Another soul for god to tender. A statistic, a casualty of war, To be remembered generically A wreath to share with a multitude of lost darlings, Another photograph to fade on the mantel piece A piece of History for a grieving widow to dust In the ranks of the dead Angels count our losses What dreams did we lose? What voices were made silent? What books were never written? And how many tomorrows gone, Lost in the darkness of death? Under this oak tree, fading from memory A soldier Wilfred Owen was taken too Unspoken truth in unspoken poems Silent to mortal’s ear Another casualty of war A feast of wisdom for angels to keep? For His words were far too much, for the hogs of war to stomach. His poetry made silent by country’s shame, Unpatriotic, not cricket old bean said the generals Only now, through peace can we learn The voice of one soldier, How I pity humanity For silence is a killer Democracy, and justice its victim, And the inevitable Silence of war will kill us all. Footnote On this day November 4th 1918, Wilfred Owen killed in action, Sambre-Oise Canal, 7 days from Sanity One of England’s Finest War Poets.