Mick Shave


In the gloom of each day when it’s dyingStanding to is the normal routine.A time which I use for reflectingOn […]

When tracer snarls about your earsBecause the bastard knows your there.When so much noise explodes the fearsAnd drills take over […]

I once overheard some colleagues bemoaning the introduction of a new rifle, not because of its small caliber but because […]

The well aimed shot, the instinctive kill,Return the same intrinsic thrill.To see it twitch then lie quite still,Was once the […]

One morning safe in barracks while sitting on the loo,Our Colonel, who’d put duty first, was wondering what to do.Now, […]

Beside that track in jungle green(Bare the bayonet, beat the drum.).Sweat-soaked, dirty, thus unseen(Bare the bayonet, beat the drum.).These young […]

Last night I spoke with Caesar’s ghost.We’d quaffed a glass or two of wine.But then the bastard made a boast,How […]

By Sun filled day and frosty night, O’er rugged hills and desert sand, We learned to work as teams, to […]

I thought “I’ll march this Anzac Day,” To Sydney thus I’ll make my way. But then, to set my medals […]

A  poem written by Mick Shave at  Keswick Barracks in Adelaide on 14th November 2017  at 9 RAR’s reunion and […]