Text Size
Ask a Celebrant

V4 G Cook Poet, A Grandmother's Mystery, The Many Tunes, ANZACS,

PDF Print E-mail
Personal Poetry or Prose

Graeme Cook - Funeral Celebrant and Poet

More

How did you become a Celebrant?

How many times do we get asked that question?

My answer is simple.

Whenever someone asks how I became a Funeral Celebrant, and that’s fairly often, my flippant reply is always: “Well, I had the perfect lead-in to being a Funeral Celebrant. I spent 30 years as a Motor Mechanic!”

I then let them stare blankly for a moment before adding, “I spent the last 9 years of that career working for Australia’s largest Rolls-Royce workshop, for the most part as Service Manager, so I learnt all about grief; because I wrote the bills!”

Jokes aside, in that role I did learn the art of honest and accurate recording of details, for Rolls-Royce owners are arguably the World’s most litigious, so every bill had to be prepared in a manner that could possibly be used in Court!

The real story though, is this: I had a lady who used to come in regularly to photograph cars for a sales magazine, and who also happened to be a Marriage Celebrant. (Imagine that! A Celebrant needing a second occupation!!!)

Very busy one day, I told her I could not get the cars she wanted straight away, and handed her a sheaf of poems I had written, suggesting she may perhaps find something she liked. When I returned, some 15 minutes later, she was still riveted, and thoughtfully suggested that, based on my writings, I would make a good Funeral Celebrant.

To be fair, those poems, which I no longer have, or even remember, were pretty angst-ridden at the time, but it did leave me to ponder at length on all the people I had known and loved, attended their Funerals, and seen them so appallingly represented!

I figured that I could do a better job!

So, I did a Diploma of Funeral Celebrancy with ‘the College’, and went out looking for work!

After 8 years, and hundreds of Funerals, I readily describe myself as being ‘a round peg in a round hole’. I love what I do, and I like it to show!

Strangely enough, the first Funeral Service I ever wrote, was over 20 years ago, for my Father, as the Celebrant, a lovely lady, had got so many details horribly wrong! To the extent that there would not have been 1 person in the Chapel, (A 50/50 split between strict Methodists on one side, and alcoholics, adulterers, and ratbags on the other), that wound not have been horribly offended at what she had planned to say!

My rewrite, though still honest and complete, was a hit with everyone, but I had no idea at the time that I would one day be doing this professionally.

A key player throughout this whole scenario though, has been poetry, for which it was noticed that I had a talent for, way back in Grade 5 at Ringwood State, the same year that my dear little Scottish teacher, Miss Enterkin, gave me my lasting love and respect for words.

Rhymes came easy to me, a string to my bow of wit it seems, and years later I was to put those skills to use in generating rhymes and songs for Scout events during my 12 years as a Scout Leader, even writing a Scout Bong Book.

I found though, after composing many a verse for people’s Birthdays, funny rhymes for workplaces, etc., was that the true power of poetry was the ability to put my heart on my sleeve as it were, and express feelings in a manner that was both clear, and entertaining, and that you could actually speak more, while saying less.

With a happy knack of being able to draw accurate conclusions from limited information, I have many times described situations with both clarity and brevity, and have felt free to let my emotions spill onto the paper, be they anger, grief, laughter, or love.

My apparent suitability for Funeral Celebrancy is born of a compassion, understanding, and empathy due, to a large extent, on my own personal losses, and certainly a broad spectrum of living and situations, but these have been heightened and honed, by the magic of verse.

I have been able t help other Celebrants at times, normally at a distance, with a purpose-written poem stemming from a handful of pertinent details, knocked together a few nice generic verses too, and for the last 3 years or so, have performed in pubs and restaurants in inner Melbourne, making people laugh, cry, or bristle a little, as I combine my somewhat irreverent senses of humour and social justice, with enough poetic talent, it seems, to prevent my audience throwing rotten vegetables.

Anyway, I’ve taken enough of your time, but I’m sure we’ll talk again.

All the best!
Graeme Cook
Ringwood Melbourne Victoria

Graeme's ACCN Listing/

Few things in life are as special as a Grandmother! I know mine was, and I doubt that there are many out there that are not just as revered.

A Grandmother's Mystery

What is it about a Grandmother, that is such a special bond,

Seeing not the years between us, but so very much beyond,

For being so much older, just doesn't seem to be a case,

The ages seem to melt to nought, within our own special place.

The place where we share our secrets, and it always just makes sense,

Where my soul can be wide open, true and free without defense,

Split by a generation, simply makes us both so nearer,

To words so true from both, whether you're the speaker or the hearer.

That very place where children sit, in safety and in pleasure,

To bask in love and comfort, is truly a child's life treasure,

Where this child can feel so grown up, and a Gran feel like a kid,

Learn and laugh together from stories, of all the things she did.

The parents in the middle though, can't share this special caring,

It's just for us, my Gran and I, adventures we are sharing,

And even if my situation's bad, my Gran is not deterred,

What is it about a Grandmother? I think Love must be the word!

© Graeme Cook 2004
Please contact us if you are interested in copyright approval for this piece.

In Remembering the ANZACS

More

They did not die in haste, they passed on

- victoriously

They rose and fought as one, shedding

their childhood - gloriously

Leaving their families, wives and friends

they marched on - fearlessly

Making the fight for freedom their

cause - intentionally

They lay in ditches cold and weary

shielding each other - continuously

They braved the enemy, in tortured

pain - enduringly

They gave their lives so we

may live - courageously.

© Ruth Van Gramberg

If you wish to further explore “Kissed by the Sun” by Ruth Van Gramberg, please email Rona or Ginny at ACCN


Note: By purchasing this product, Ruth grants permission for her poetry to be used in ceremonies and on a memento copy from the Celebrant provided her authorship is clearly acknowledged

The ACCN website also has links to a number of poetry websites in our Weblinks section: click here

Music has been a continuing passion throughout my life, a melodic guide, and a damn fine friend!

The Many Tunes

The songs that travel through my head, often are my guiding light,

For they tell so many stories of love and death and fear and plight,

They take me where I’ve been, have lived, and seen throughout my life,

Of highs and lows and happiness, horrors, terrors, and of strife.

My thanks to Bob and John and Kris, and to Paul and Harry too,

All you’ve taught me in your words has proven largely to be true,

For I’ve been that man in black, and the late night watchman too,

I’ve heard those sounds of silence, spent time tangled up in blue.

Never been in Folsom Prison, but lived like I’d been caged,

Heard that whistle blowin’ though, as I walked an empty stage,

Been closer to the Pilgrim than I prob’bly ought to be,

But never quite as low it seems, as poor young Billy Dee.

Danced that ring of fire, I’ve been an island and a rock,

Those tunes are part of pretty much everything I’ve got,

If the answer’s blowin’ in the wind, then I’ll find it there one day,

Until then I’ll walk the line, and try to avoid slip sliding away.

Tunes and poets there combine, to educate and entertain,

With tales of love and life, cards and booze, and rambling midnight train,

It aint me babe, but that’s alright, this is not the shortest story,

Songs live on today, on silver tongues, as bound we are for glory

Sing songs of all my demons, maybe never to be appeased,

Though in their singing, knowin’ that someday, I shall be released,

Overall, sometimes a nightmare, as the dream of Life unfurled,

Thanks last, to dear old Louis, for it is, a wonderful World.

© Graeme Cook 2007

Please contact us if you are interested in copyright approval for this piece.

Crayon Box Of Colour

This unique continent, an enigmatic puzzle - light and dark - pleasure and pain
bursting with revelations

Fragmented by rivers, forests, oceans and plains
harmoniously blended

Yielding mysteries
each bend in the road, rise of each hill

Its splendour is vast
each scape a thrill

A crayon box of colour disclosing leisurely
treasures hidden all around
lying there to discover at will

© Ruth Van Gramberg

If you wish to further explore “Kissed by the Sun” by Ruth Van Gramberg, please email Rona or Ginny at ACCN

For more information on copyright, click here