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About Time is the national newspaper for Australian prisons and detention facilities

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ISSUE NO. 3

September 2024

ISSUE NO. 3

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Sections

September 2024

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Poetry

I Cannot Write Poetry

By

A

A writes from Goulburn Prison in NSW.

Mariela Ferbo

I’ve tried to write poetry, but I find it hard to do,

I’d like to say in pretty words, just what I think of you.

And what I would like to say, would be something like this:

You make my heart run wild, with just one little kiss.

When I am holding you close, my heart beats like a drum,

And the sparkle in your eyes shines brighter than the sun.

The tenderness of your lips, is much safer than air,

And there is nothing to match the beauty of your hair.

This love I have for you, I cannot tell of its worth,

Itt means so much to me, it equals nothing on earth.

For the feeling that it brings, I have never felt before,

The pleasure and joy only makes me want you more.

But I cannot write poetry, I find it so hard to do,

So for now I will simply say: I love you.

I’ve tried to write poetry, but I find it hard to do,

I’d like to say in pretty words, just what I think of you.

And what I would like to say, would be something like this:

You make my heart run wild, with just one little kiss.

When I am holding you close, my heart beats like a drum,

And the sparkle in your eyes shines brighter than the sun.

The tenderness of your lips, is much safer than air,

And there is nothing to match the beauty of your hair.

This love I have for you, I cannot tell of its worth,

Itt means so much to me, it equals nothing on earth.

For the feeling that it brings, I have never felt before,

The pleasure and joy only makes me want you more.

But I cannot write poetry, I find it so hard to do,

So for now I will simply say: I love you.

‘Love is Rebuilding My Life’

By Phillip

There’s irony, hypocrisy, fallacy, a vast ocean of distance to cross. The “saint”, the “sinner”, it’s lunacy, that the ignorant could save the lost.

Creative

ISSUE NO. 22

2 MIN READ

Methfairytale

By Karie

I’m not belle of the ball, not the very least, but we have something in common, I’m in love with a beast. But the beast is not a person but a drug that I call meth, I’ve been talking to myself for hours, I’m running out of breath.

Creative

ISSUE NO. 22

1 MIN READ

Nostalgia

By Dennis

Nostalgia is a gentle haze, a soft and fading, golden maze, where time itself begins to blur, and memory’s touch is sweet and pure.

Creative

ISSUE NO. 22

1 MIN READ

Art From Inside

By Lanie

Our team was blown away by this beautiful painting.

Creative

ISSUE NO. 21

1 MIN READ