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.
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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