This section publishes creative contributions mostly from currently and formerly incarcerated people. It includes short-stories, poetry, creative nonfiction, art, and much more.
If you have something creative to submit to us, we would love to read it, or see it, and publish it in About Time – please write to us!
Locked down for the third time this week, sixth time this past fortnight, with Bird of Prey playing on Rage, the shitty fuzzy speakers on the shitty fuzzy TV barely able to conjure up something that resembles bass.
The poem was written in the early weeks of being on remand, expressing my raw emotions while coming to terms with it all.
Here I sit inside my cell, thinking to myself, is this Hell? Cold and dark, with a terrible smell. I think it is, only time will tell.
A poem for the one true love of my life. I wish I could change the past, but I can only change my future.
I remember the day I saw you, I held your tiny form, the chilly air made you tremble, so we took you home.
The pressure of the pain inside, formed diamonds in my mind, tempting me to throw it in, to leave it all behind.
Belief in a future, they do persist, for everyone has the right to exist.
Butterflies, can be the colour of your eyes. They start life as tiny eggs, finally having wings and six legs.
An ode to our last 750-gram powdered milk, taken from our treasured weekly Buy-Up Sheet.
Facing the darkness, the pain and cold travelling through the body, the soul taking me back to when I played alone when hell exists, the place my home I spend years, months, days wearing the mask trying to pretend there is no fear or pain.
The big idea behind this painting is to display a very strong, tough Australian sportswoman. Through her athleticism she has helped to inspire a huge number of young Australian girls to take up soccer as their favourite game.
As I come back to jail, I walk through that familiar door, I promised my mum and kids, I wouldn’t break the law.
Behold my friend, I am heroin, known by all as the destroyer of men. From where I came no one knows, a far away place where the poppies grow.
It’s been almost 10 years now, since my life has changed. For better or worse, nothing will ever be the same.
I fall, twisting and spinning in duress, a darkness complete, vast and eternal. An emptiness felt, thick as molasses, noises and sounds rend my mind infernal.
Do not cry by the window, gazing out to the sky. For I’ve not only left you, I’ll never say goodbye.
Window Pane is a reflection of childhood memories, looking outside of my bedroom, locked away.
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Help us get About Time off the ground. All donations are tax deductible and will be vital in providing an essential resource for people in prison and their loved ones.
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