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

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ISSUE NO. 25

August 2026

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Poetry

Lines For Define

By

Jon

Jon writes from a prison in VIC.

Stainless Images via Unsplash

“The colours of the rainbow

so pretty in the sky”

The colours of my jocks lying

on a bench

Uncovered by shutters

Unarmed waiting snakes

Too clean to congo

Too late to be vague

Cos reality is a disease

And all must please

The Society blisters

The eventful sleaze

Wrapped in iron bars

Closed behind doors

The sky is different

Some grey ugly war

Between insanity

And the reason

Parlours of goodbye

Never needed teasin’

Instinctive beginning

Call for hollow ends

Ending of the path

To another life rend

Yes, there may be colours

Stilled + on the page

After all disasters

The sky is still the sage

Of whispered prayers

And balderdash gods

Only in the inequality

The grey is in the odds

we play the game

and welcome tears as friends.

“The colours of the rainbow

so pretty in the sky”

The colours of my jocks lying

on a bench

Uncovered by shutters

Unarmed waiting snakes

Too clean to congo

Too late to be vague

Cos reality is a disease

And all must please

The Society blisters

The eventful sleaze

Wrapped in iron bars

Closed behind doors

The sky is different

Some grey ugly war

Between insanity

And the reason

Parlours of goodbye

Never needed teasin’

Instinctive beginning

Call for hollow ends

Ending of the path

To another life rend

Yes, there may be colours

Stilled + on the page

After all disasters

The sky is still the sage

Of whispered prayers

And balderdash gods

Only in the inequality

The grey is in the odds

we play the game

and welcome tears as friends.

This
piece
was originally printed in the
August 2026
edition of About Time.

Self Reflection

By Sofia

Often I try to self-reflect which turns into waves of rings around me. This picture reflects my days in general; life is static, surrounded by waves around.

Creative

ISSUE NO. 25

1 MIN READ

Beyond the Steel Mesh

By Anonymous

The cage stands bold, with its steel-clad mesh. For within its grip, it’s us it holds. Ten foot walls, of cold creme concrete. For outside we muster, like horses in stalls.

Creative

ISSUE NO. 25

2 MIN READ

Burning Broken Thoughts

By Wolverine

I know you think you’re broken far too much to ever heal properly, like all those other folk that make life seem so real.

Creative

ISSUE NO. 25

1 MIN READ

Crying Your Eyes Out

By Justin

You begin to scream and shout. Roll about time to let it all out. Emotions running wild from the hurt and pain. It’s starting to hurt my brain.

Creative

ISSUE NO. 25

2 MIN READ