He opened the door
and slowly entered the house.
The quiet creak of each floorboard
as he passed above
gave hint that he was there.
Author: WILDsound Festival
Submitters reactions to their feedback on their stories. New testimonials coming each month!
Watch this month's winning readings. At least 15 performances a month:
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Submit your script, story, poem, or film to the festival today:
www.wildsound.ca
UNTITLED POEM, Poetry by Nina Katungi
I write my feelings down
On this piece of paper
What’s in my head
Fills this blank page
For what?
For my sanity?
WILDsound Festival 