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

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ISSUE NO. 6

December 2024

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Poetry

A Symphony of Joy

By

Denis

Denis writes from Beechworth Correctional Centre in Victoria.

'Hideaway' by York, Boom Gate Gallery

In the quiet of my heart, I confess,

A burden of guilt, a silent distress.

I can't forgive the role I played,

For letting you go, for the choice I made.

Yet, in the whispers of the wind, I hear,

You've found joy, and that's so dear.

Your happiness, a melody so sweet,

It gives me peace, makes me complete.

I scanned your face, so soft, so fair,

For marks of our past, a sign you care.

Your lips, a work of art, so divine,

A memory's treasure, forever mine.

Mouth full of pearls, your laughter rings,

A symphony of joy, on angel's wings.

Though you're not mine, I find solace in this:

In your prosperity, I too find bliss.

In the quiet of my heart, I confess,

A burden of guilt, a silent distress.

I can't forgive the role I played,

For letting you go, for the choice I made.

Yet, in the whispers of the wind, I hear,

You've found joy, and that's so dear.

Your happiness, a melody so sweet,

It gives me peace, makes me complete.

I scanned your face, so soft, so fair,

For marks of our past, a sign you care.

Your lips, a work of art, so divine,

A memory's treasure, forever mine.

Mouth full of pearls, your laughter rings,

A symphony of joy, on angel's wings.

Though you're not mine, I find solace in this:

In your prosperity, I too find bliss.

This
piece
was originally printed in the
December 2024
edition of About Time.

Dan’s Drawing

By Dan

A drawing of Stitch from Lilo and Stitch, sent to us by Dan.

Creative

ISSUE NO. 25

1 MIN READ

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