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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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AN EPIC STORY- FICTION In a chase, she rode far east at the sun's wake, the wind daintily throwing her wig as the horse tread into black fields in dawn's glare, stained red with a colour of her days; her thighs grew weary, dangled like broken mahogany, tugging pain into grey eyes, as blood thickened over cold gash. she stumbled off the horse at the sigh of a swooshing arrow, aimed at her son but pierces her heart, drawing her last breath unto the canvas of the morning sky; nursed to sleep by the earth in the sight of her creator, she died for one. shrills... Her young awakened at the fall shrouded in a dark veil fastened around her back like a knapsack, his wails jolted her breathless self, but to no avail the sun fell at the rise of an evil in the west a mother's love put to a fatal test, a death or a death, but her son liveth saved by her last breath. For she had climbed down a window a night before, facing a street hazy with smoke and red with blood and fire, but with the wound on her limb festering from a cut in the moment of her flee she couldn't get too far, even on a horse's back, but her son was safe, only for a day longer than it would have been, for the fields were no place for a new born.

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An Epic Story

AN EPIC STORY- FICTION In a chase, she rode far east at the sun's wake, the wind daintily throwing her wig as the horse tread into black fields in dawn's glare, stained red with a colour of her days; her thighs grew weary, dangled like broken mahogany, tugging pain into grey eyes, as blood thickened over cold gash. she stumbled off the horse at the sigh of a swooshing arrow, aimed at her son but pierces her heart, drawing her last breath unto the canvas of the morning sky; nursed to sleep by the earth in the sight of her creator, she died for one. shrills... Her young awakened at the fall shrouded in a dark veil fastened around her back like a knapsack, his wails jolted her breathless self, but to no avail the sun fell at the rise of an evil in the west a mother's love put to a fatal test, a death or a death, but her son liveth saved by her last breath. For she had climbed down a window a night before, facing a street hazy with smoke and red with blood and fire, but with the wound on her limb festering from a cut in the moment of her flee she couldn't get too far, even on a horse's back, but her son was safe, only for a day longer than it would have been, for the fields were no place for a new born.