Usually my attempts at lyrical poetry are quite, quite sorry. Some people can do it, but for me, triteness and rhyming tend to walk hand in hand. This scrap of a poem (ie. poem under construction) is one that I consider worth working on, and putting to music at some point in the near term. 

Just when you thought the games were over
you found a card and thought you'd let it play
You thought you'd just act fast and sleep it over
You thought decisions made would all just go away.

You sang the songs of poetry and thunder
Sang memories and hopes and songs that fly
and all your time of snowflakes and deep slumber
made you lose before you even tried

And what good can come of writing songs you know you'll never play?
Or words that only bite you back each time you sing?
You know you will remember-- crimson notes don't fade away
You remember far too well that in your memory they ring