Old Man Sinclaire
- Kelly Michelle Thomas
- Oct 26, 2023
- 2 min read
Have you heard the tale
Of the old man who lives in
The neck of the woods
All alone
Just across the murky brook
Where the dead tree stood?
Old man Sinclaire—
He had no hair
With a crooked face
And sharp teeth
In between
Some empty space
He had a stump that of
A camel’s hump on his back
Skin so scaly and cracked
And he always wore
A draping black cape
Along with a top hat
And for wondering travelers
That didn’t know for their own good
That had to cross the bridge
Over the murky brook
Deep in the neck of the woods
If they happened to find themselves
By where the dead tree stood
Old man Sinclaire
Would be waiting with his
Plot and devious plan
He’d lure the travelers into
His cabin with the impression
He needed help with his fireplace
Along with a story of how
He is a lonely, doleful man
And their meeting was by fate
Once the travelers entered into
His somber home—
He locked the door behind them
So they’d have no place to go
To their surprise the fireplace
Would already be lit and warm
Old man Sinclaire
Would then grab them by their hair
Exposing their neck sinking his
Razor sharp teeth into their flesh
Ripping out a hole and draining
Their blood and would chop
Them up
Limb by limb...
One by one...
And he set them on a rod
Into his fireplace
Cooking the parts
To the liking of his taste
All while wearing his top hat
And draping black cape
And he would stuff his face
As he ate them up
One by one...
Chunk after chunk...
But his favorite part of all his meals
Was the wandering traveler’s hearts
So now you know the tale
Of old man Sinclaire
Who lives in the
Neck of the woods
All alone
Just across the murky brook
Where the dead tree stood
This poem is published in my debut poetry collection, 125 Days: Book Two, written in 2015. © Kelly Michelle Thomas. All rights reserved. Purchase the collection here.
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