Perhaps I already had an inkling about the year of the poem.  But I had forgotten all about it.  My sister-in-law hadn’t however, and among my lovely Christmas presents was a Faber and Faber Poetry diary.  This asked-for gift came into the category of things I absolutely did not need – I already had very serviceable book and iCalendar diaries after all – but had an instant on-sight irrational desire for.  I wanted to own a Poetry Diary even if I never even really looked at the poetry diary.  I wanted a Poetry Diary even if a real poet would never use such a self-conscious wannabe item.  I wanted a Poetry Diary because somehow it conferred on me a magical inclusion in the year of poetry doings and poetry imaginings that and things that are important to Poets.

Needless to state, such a wanted but not actually that useful item stayed in its bag until the 10th January.

But on Sunday, there was a moment of glimmering quiet when I felt like getting it out.  It turns out that I do have a use for a Poetry Diary, and I am using it to record my postings and ideas for things.  I do have a normal daily journal where I write down poem things, but if I finish the journal before I use the idea, it gets a bit lost.  In the Poetry Diary, I can record ideas as I have them, as they flit in and out, and then when I have forgotten how to write, I can flick through and stir them all back up into a flutter.

And I can record mini milestones – ‘most likes ever; 18’ – and overlook poems that turn to blog dust – [no likes whatsoever, not even accidentally] – but see a developing journey that helps me recall that I am on my way to somewhere, and coming from somewhere and although it is a vast unknown, there is a little thread of titles and ideas and thoughts that is held in place neatly by days and weeks and months, and I can ponder the mysterious and beguiling thought that the diary has gone ahead of me…

And then, when I look at the diary’s other pages, I am immersed in the evidence of a quiet hum of poetry across time and space, inhabiting the hearts of those who sit quietly and allow the deepest realities to surface, or who catch joyful moments in their nets and tickle them into words.

And I feel love.

It seems that my relationship to the Faber and Faber Poetry Diary 2016 goes far beyond need.