September 1, 2017
Photo by Paul Murphy

A Poem by John Tehan

my little house
where I hope to live out my years this time around
was previously owned by a cantankerous and belligerent man

he lived here his final thirty-odd years
with his simmering anger and his long-suffering wife

he was no gentleman, no prince among men,
and few have any reason to recall him fondly or with affection

I feel he left something indelible of himself behind
in these walls and floors and ceilings that now are mine
like a troubling shadow in the corner, slow to fade,
or an angry whisper heard beneath the wind in the eaves

sights and sounds, sensations,
smells and moods of another man, not me,
linger here with overtones of such negativity
they leave me chilled even on the hottest days of summer

he did not easily surrender the things that were his
(he, of course, would say are his)
and this house that once was his and now is mine
domiciles two men, I imagine,
one past, one present
yesterday and today, then and now
and any truce between the two, if one will ever be,
is likely to remain uneasy until one, or both, find peace

To submit a photo or a poem, email Interim Library Director Brittany Taylor at