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.
Nowhere to go, as the new day is here? Holding on as the last threads, of my dreams disappear.
Givin’ my mum a hug, even for just a second. That’s worth a lot, worth the world I reckon.
‘Tis just another day behind the wall, with musters here and musters there, it surely wearies, one and all.
Life’s not a party my dearest darling, for we partied, now must you party alone.
Regardless of how we are feeling, days still start and end. Regardless of what I do, what others do, what happens to me or what happens to them.
On an icy day, we’ll meet again, on a silent path, free from pain. No greetings spoken, no sparks to fly, just a quiet knowing in each other’s eye.
Why should you suffer for my pain. Knowledge in this I should try to gain. Does it feel I have left you alone? It may feel I have cut you to the bone.
The calls we hear every day, whether guilty or claiming you’re innocent, there’s a price we each must pay. “It’s a privilege not a right” you’ll hear the screws say, but the moment you’re behind those bars, your control is taken away.
A poem for the one true love of my life, I wish I could change the past, but I can only change my future.
She saw his will and was convinced, she listened to his lies and was convinced, she looked into his eyes and trusted his smiles, she was convinced.
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