Imps ripping wings off fairies
Trolls tearing off horns off unicorns
A burning elven forest
The sun has gone down forever on my heart
A birth, a smile, a crib, bottles, pacifiers
strollers, kindergarten, more smiles, more smiles
smiles, a boy, five young men
the boy gets a new bottle of a different kind from under the young men’s underwear.
I like the first stanza. It seems like your building up to something tragic and you highlight that unsettling feeling with the last line - but the second stanza does’t really make much sense to me. I really don’t get the last line of it.
Then again, poetry isn’t something that I find can be critiqued adequately because it relies so heavily on how well the theme or point connects with the reader. Take my opinion as you will.
The imagery is a bit weak. Ripping wings evokes a picture, but imps, fairies, trolls and even unicorns are pretty lightweight and the reader has to invent connections or possible meanings instead of being stricken by them. Similarly, elven is too vague; compare it with a more descriptive adjective like mossy (omit burning for that example). The last verse here feels like a cliché and, furthermore, a bit sudden as, forced by the fantastic, non-emotional preceding lines, the writer surrenders to doom and gloom*. Unlike Mullenkamp, I’m not that hot for the first part.
Now, the second part switches to reality. While it uses too many words for the growing-up and it’s all smiles initially, where are the smiling people in the final verse? You could say missing parent, America, yadda yadda, but what (for me) would be the interesting part, is omitted from the poem or is at best implicit. “Bottle” is kinda tasteless imo and using both “new” and “of a different kind” seems superfluous.
*but if it means the sun going down on the heart, it’s the best line there.
See, the problem with language like trolls etc., even tough you chose more well-known creatures, is that it’s a textbook example of telling (not showing). You expect the reader to make associations, so that the poem won’t fall flat on its face, but my thoughts are about Dragonlance and the emptiness of my association, unopposed, is transferred to the poem. Easy come, easy go, as they say. Now, if you read the old epics, they feel tangible, because the fantastic elements represent something and the effect shows on the other characters. Of course, you didn’t write a 10000-line epic. My usual advice is read, read, read. If you like nature-y stuff, Robert Frost could be up your alley. Damned poetry, it’s tough business.
First verse is from the POV of the psyche of the boy who gets raped
Second verse is telling about how the boy gets raped
Re-read the poem with that in mind
And Rigamole is right, “new bottle of a different kind” is entirely superfluous
I think I know what superfluous means now.