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 […]
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