Kathy Boles-Turner

Dearest Fellow Rememberers: The Stories of Those Strangers You Passed on the Road Yesterday Might Be Sad, Or Hopeful. Their Stories Are Important.

Last year I finally self-published Ramshackle Houses & Southern Parables for print on demand. It was a labor of love and regret, an autobiography in poetry and creative nonfiction, a full-on act of self-imposed therapy by remembering and writing through my own personal filter. A narcissistic act? I’m sure if more than my generous writing […]

by Kathy Boles-Turner

Dearest Fellow Mourners of Love and Truth: Please Keep Searching for Love and Truth in Your Village.

Seven months gone in a blink. I’ve moaned and groaned about my personal, persistent time management disfunctions so often even I’m sick of hearing about all that. But the truth is, the last seven months–since the loss of my boi boi–all disappeared into a blur of functional depression and harsh talks with myself which I […]

by Kathy Boles-Turner

Dearest Joy & Wonder: Please Keep On Whispering To Me

My boi boi has gone to heaven. Sixteen years with him just wasn’t enough, so I can only hope that he enjoyed his time here on Earth with a terrible human who tried. The void will never be filled, but I have promised myself and his spirit that I will remember all the lessons Oliver […]

by Kathy Boles-Turner

Dearest Storytellers of the In Between & Down Below: I Am Proud of You

Head noise has exhausted me for the past six weeks or so. Incoherency and lack of direction: exhausting. I’m finally burrowing out of the funk, though, swimming to shore [insert other apt metaphors here]. My elderly dog needing extra attention, people in real life suffering loss and obstacles, realizing that I hadn’t gone to an […]

by Kathy Boles-Turner

Dearest Wounded & Healing. I’m Going To Tell You A Story: Chapter Two

Reminder: This is the story of Clare. Like most of my fictional characters, and many people I’ve learned to love, Clare speaks with a Tennessee accent. She smokes when the urge strikes, cusses a lot, and she prefers whiskey over wine. Clare has known very little happiness in her life, so her story is filled […]

by Kathy Boles-Turner

Dearest Wounded & Healing, I’m Going To Tell You A Story. Chapter One.

This is the story of Clare. Like most of my fictional characters, and many people I’ve learned to love, Clare speaks with a Tennessee accent. She smokes when the urge strikes, cusses a lot, and she prefers whiskey over wine. Clare has known very little happiness in her life, so her story is filled with […]

by Kathy Boles-Turner

Dearest Homegrown Writers Of Love And Regret, I Will Read You. I Will Remember You.

In the past few weeks, I’ve been alternately frustrated, anxiety ridden, angry, and exhausted from all of it. In retrospect, I can calmly admit that I am ridiculous. I am vindicated. And I’m totally willing to go through it all again. Well, almost all of it. Three years ago, I uploaded my two poetry collections […]

by Kathy Boles-Turner

Dearest Lost, Found, And Forgotten: Shedding Tears Only Clears Your Vision, Not Theirs. Forgiveness Frees You, Not Them. Revenge Isn’t Any Sweeter If You Write A Poem About It.

Rejection is something a person can feel right through bone to soul without ever being able to spell the word. Loneliness roots deeper than any tree and grows without a sense of direction or knowing the science of sunrise and sunset. Justice may be slow to come, but it’s inevitable. Happiness isn’t a daily choice, […]

by Kathy Boles-Turner

Dearest Shattered Heartbreakers: Sing Me A Song That Bares All Your Secrets

Perfect feminine face, flawless untrained voice, broken soul. Homegrown handsome, natural showman, easy-going control freak. Together, who are they? The chosen ones, front and center of a 70s rock band that changed the world if just for a little while. Daisy Jones & The Six explores the possibility of damaged people creating momentary perfection for […]

by Kathy Boles-Turner

Dearest Daytime Readers: If You Carry A Vengeful Heart And A Pocketwatch, Meet Me In The Library At Half-Past Noon.

Imagine waking at sunrise with no memory of who you are, and yet a woman’s name is on your lips as you gain consciousness. You are in an unfamiliar wilderness, damp, cold, injured, mind blank except for some urgent, shadowy need to find Anna! Who is Anna? Who are you? Why is your arm bleeding? […]