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!
This painting was inspired by a photo that I found in the National Geographic of January 2011 taken by Robin Hammond. It’s a gold miner in the border province of Manica.
Now sit in cell of nought to read, the glasses gone! Of what I need! I ask the system, to provide, for that, my sight be magnified.
I destroy homes, I tear families apart, take your children, and that’s just the start. I’m more costly than diamonds, more precious than gold, the sorrow I bring is a sight to behold.
Being in jail has given me time to think, as I lay in my bed and slowly sink.
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.
Brain tumour, brain tumour, a darkness you can’t see, oh how I hate you, you took my brother away from me.
Rob (my cellie) and I were about to go to sleep one miserable cold night, and a mouse (Jesus DMC) died and went up to the pearly gates and knocked.
Here we are again, this day is just the same as last, I've done all I can do and yet it seems no time has passed.
Some say Love is overrated. It has no relevance anymore I say. I know more than love unbound, I can make these prayerful sounds.
This image depicts the wild woman and the apple tree. It is inspired by the character 'Aofie' in this year's production.
Alone in a world of darkness and pain. The world there outside, I don't see the rain. Is the sun shining brightly? I really don't know. There's no place to turn and nowhere to go.
I see the pain in your lost eyes, and see, all your life ends in cries.
My whispers every night never reached you it seems. Now I only see you in my vivid dreams.
No one can see the shame and guilt, trapped behind these eyes. As I sit here in a prison cell, all due to a pack of lies.
Clean me of this damaged life and make it right. And I swear I will do whatever it takes to be a better man. I swear it.
When in jail some don’t want to go home, it’s true. Hard to believe, so I will find out more for you. Are the dudes for real, or a screw loose in the head. They would rather stay in jail, than going home instead.
The voice is beautiful; my lungs fill with a relieved gasp. I expected a prison sentence. A feeling of chest tightening, breath weak, metal and voices. A life of strip searches and beatings.
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