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.
Doing time together, under lock and key, but helping others can set your mind free. The past is gone, the future’s not arrived, focus on now, be glad to be alive.
I found this poem titled Until and I wrote a poem on my reflection to it.
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.
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.
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.
If you turn to drugs instead, to silence the villains in your head. Or to minimise the self harm to your arm, without causing alarm.
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