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

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ISSUE NO. 11

June 2025

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Poetry

Ode to Ashton – Now Eighteen

By

Jacqui

Jacqui writes from Brisbane Women’s Correctional Centre in Queensland.

Nuno Silva via Unsplash

My little boy has grown so strong

I can’t believe its been this long

Since he raised his tiny head

And gazed at me in the hospital bed.

I held you tight against my chest

And promised to always do my best

To give you all you’d ever need

And make sure you would succeed.

You always wanted to help mum out

Around the house or out and about

And that was merely just the start

To seeing the size of my little boy’s heart.

I can’t believe how fast you’ve grown

And even though I’ve always known

How smart and strong and extra kind

You have become heart, soul and mind.

We’ve had so many ups and downs

But you’ve always kept me on solid ground

You are so much more than a bundle of joy

You’re my giggly, gorgeous, mischievous little boy.

My little boy has grown so strong

I can’t believe its been this long

Since he raised his tiny head

And gazed at me in the hospital bed.

I held you tight against my chest

And promised to always do my best

To give you all you’d ever need

And make sure you would succeed.

You always wanted to help mum out

Around the house or out and about

And that was merely just the start

To seeing the size of my little boy’s heart.

I can’t believe how fast you’ve grown

And even though I’ve always known

How smart and strong and extra kind

You have become heart, soul and mind.

We’ve had so many ups and downs

But you’ve always kept me on solid ground

You are so much more than a bundle of joy

You’re my giggly, gorgeous, mischievous little boy.

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A sweet treat using buy-up staples.

Creative

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Tired from being told what to do. I am tired of love, tired of being deemed guilty, tired of my own remorse. I am tired of my own self-doubt, my own shadows and especially tired of my own face.

Creative

ISSUE NO. 20

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Hate’s a strong word, but for you it’s reserved. I hate what you’ve taken from me, my parents, my childhood and my glee.

Creative

ISSUE NO. 20

1 MIN READ

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My blue eyes look so drained, but I’m strong, I’ll make it through.

Creative

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1 MIN READ