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!
Life is only short my son, with so many paths to take, life is an uphill struggle, with every step you make. That’s why you must treasure life, with every second of the day, because you may never know, when it’s your turn to go away.
I dream, and think, and feel from the opposite side of the city, in a cell of grey and steel, about our home – peaceful and pretty.
The outside on the inside, steals passion for fun. When arrows come from far and wide, facing the new shiny sun, with dignity. There are ribbons in the fire, and lives still painfully on hold. Beneath the folds of desire, the barred windows still remain cold indefinitely.
I’ve done almost 10 years in prison and I’m totally done with it now and can’t wait to be out away from this place.
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.
Nowhere to go, as the new day is here? Holding on as the last threads, of my dreams disappear.
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