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!
After all his team had been through to get here, physically and mentally, the farm boys were disrespecting them big time. “Only one way to shut their gobs,” he thought with venom.
When the light returns and the long night fades, and dawn slips soft through shadowed shades, you feel the hush before the day – a whisper of grace that finds its way.
They expect us to play ball, but always move the goalposts. They expect us to hold boundaries, the same they overstep. They want us to abide, but break their own rules.
Christmas day without my family, was such a terrible burden to bare, no Christmas tree, decorations, no presents, no laughter, no joy, no Christmas fare.
Every feeling they felt, the other feels too, trust is a must and communication too. Together as one, soulmates we are destined, forever to each other we are.
One cold and windy night, I laid upon my gaol bed, and as I closed my eyes, I heard a voice that said: “Please don’t be afraid, I wish to speak with you, maybe you will listen, to my words that are true.”
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.
My partner and I are both currently locked up down here in Tasmania. Your newspaper has been a huge hit in both the women's and the men's prisons, so I thought I'd send you something from both of us.
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.
The woman of my dreams; she isn’t there. The woman of my dreams; she doesn’t care. The woman of my dreams; she isn’t real. The woman of my dreams knows not how I feel.
Behind cement walls and razor wire, I can see a tall tree – swaying in the breeze it reminds me, the day I’ll be free. Then in come the birds from out of that tree, I watch these birds with envy and I wish it was me.
A wee bit of heaven, drifted down from above. A handful of happiness, a heart full of love. The mystery of life, so sacred and sweet, the giver of joy, so deep and complete. Priceless and precious, so loveable, too – the world’s sweetest miracle, baby doll, is you!
Our faces are seen above uniforms of green, we parade in this prison, all shaven clean. "Another day in paradise", we sarcastically wink, "we fake it till we make it", we tell our shrink.
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Help us get About Time off the ground. All donations are tax deductible and will be vital in providing an essential resource for people in prison and their loved ones.
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