SONNET XLVI - POISON PEN

I think the trick to writing well is hate,
for who can write a classic when they’re calm?
But when hot anger drives you to create,
your heart explodes as deadly as a bomb.
It’s passion that sends soldiers off to war,
the same red heat that tempts a lover's play.
But anger sends the soldier back for more,
while boredom makes young lover’s lust decay
Tell ladies their love's worth a heavy cost.
Such sweetness might just woo them into bed.
But as sheets cool, such sentiments are lost.
The angry poem remains when love is dead.
     I’d rather read a sonnet full of rage
     than see a sappy ending mar the page.