Joy is a thing with Feathers

[brynmawr1]

Poetry is clumsy
The lines trip and twist  words?
And stumble into my path  tangled in?
Because they just wanna be noticed.  wanting to,    lose the period


They scramble to organize themselves
Into legible stanzas stumbling
Under from the tip of my pen 
Watching for my approval with earnest gazes  not a fan of this line but left it for now


The metaphors bury themselves
deep In the lines and stanzas
Because they don’t wanna be seen  this is a good metaphor despite my changes
They wanna sit in the back
with the quiet kids; too shy.


And yet they’re literally what makes poetry  literally, it's unnecessary
poetry.
It’s a twisting trail of confusion.


It’s hard to keep up with. 
Which begs the important question:


Why do I write?
I don’t know.
Half the time I’m crying when I write  redundant
My tears mingling with the words on the page  again redundant


Creating this rancid mixture of grief  not a fan of 'this',  maybe 'a'?
And anger
And sadness
And hopelessness


But once in a blue moon  cliche.  sometimes?
There’s joy
Vivid and bold
So bold it makes my heart sing


Its feathers fluttering as it bursts out of my chest  it's is implied.  'out of' = from
too often Disappearing
into a cloudless blue sky
My fingers grasping at empty air  implied
where it once was.


Insane isn’t it?


I write about every other emotion except joy implied
And even when my poetry  But
Has a joyful connotation  maybe condense to 'has joy'
It is tainted with something…darker.  implied
It is always tainted, and that ignites  'ignites' and 'flood' is not a good mixed metaphor, IMO. The repetition of 'always tainted' works for me.
A flood a good opportunity for imagery or more metaphor, etc.
Of emotions
In me  implied


Because
I have so much to be joyful about implied
I have loving friends and family
I have a crush
Someone to love and look forward to implied


I have my cat
Who is good for nothing
Except being a doorstop
And a beloved cuddle partner


I have my mother
Who is headstrong and no nonsense
But loves me all the same
And I love her too  you made your point two stanzas earlier


And yet joy eludes me sometimes  don't be wishy-washy
I don’t know why
Maybe…hope isn’t the thing with feathers nice allusion.  I suspected with the title.
Maybe joy is the thing with feathers  Alternative...'Maybe it's joy, always...'
flying out of my reach  could end here with previous suggestion.
Whenever it gets a chance.  This is the end of the poem.  The rest is just a weak restatement of this stanza.  It's a good ending, IMO.


I try to trap it in a cage
Its sharp beak nips through the bars


I try to tie it down
It tears through the rope.


I grow frustrated with each failed attempt


And I SWEAR TO HIGH HEAVEN
I am so dang close to drop kicking that stupid bird
Into next week
If it don’t stay in the cage


Because happiness is all I’ve ever really wanted


And I AM happy…
But I wonder if I just tell myself that


To make myself feel better
Or if I truly am happy with my life.
What a conundrum!
Usually I like deep questions…
But I don’t think I like this one.

Hi,
I have made a lot of suggestions above, but they are not meant to be considered dogma, but merely suggestions.  I like the general thesis of your poem, but you rely on a lot on telling rather than showing.  The first half with the metaphor of the poem is better, but then you lose all imagery and resort to just conversation with the reader.  While it is still impactful, it loses poetic qualities.  I would recommend reviewing with an eye to tightening the language and considering how imagery might better convey what you are trying to say.
Welcome to the Pen,
Bryn