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great titles from the library of serendipity 
​with thanks to poet Phillip Gross

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1) Gather concrete nouns (cn)
2) Gather abstract nouns (an)
3) Gather adjectives (adj)
4) Generate titles like this:
The (an) of the (adj) (cn)
eg
The love of the indigo willow
The despair of the speckled twig
The jealousy of the fluffy oak

This activity shows how these three classes of words (abstract nouns, concrete nouns, adjectives) can function together to set up surprising images which can take a poem or story unexpected directions. 
The title 'The Love of the Indigo Willow' reminded me of willows growing on the Somerset levels, and their pale colours of fawn, cream, silver, pale green.
What would an indigo willow look like? Who would love it?
​I remembered M&S used to have a collection of clothes called 'Indigo'. I imagined the indigo willow, spurned by the 'normal' willows, finding love in a discarded dress.
In the video below, I've tried to draft a poem. I've made lots of changes. There will be more.

 I tried to write a 2 verse haiku. After a few unsatisfactory attempts, I made a note of the story I wanted to tell, and redrafted it in 7 verses. I'm still not happy with it, so I will leave it for 24 hours and come back and re-draft again. I will probably abandon the haiku structure and write in free verse form instead.

A further attempt at the poem...

What if
Instead of subtle grey bark with criss-cross ridges
Sage and silver leaf, slender new shoots, large
Ascending grey-brown branches
One willow chose
Defiantly
For herself
The colour indigo?
What if
Instead of workers weaving baskets of brown, white or buff
They were randing, fitching, waling and slewing in blue
Dark blue, which being a fugitive colour
They would not choose?
What if
When stems are cut as wands, sharp hooks
Slice bone white wood,
And sap drips blue?
What next? Must we have
Blue picnic baskets, bedroom chairs, charcoal, and – god-forbid – even cricket bats?
Along the level roads and rhynes, between the Parrett and the Axe and Brue
Conventional buff, brown, silver, sage, green, grey, willows shake their shaggy heads.
They long for a hand with quelling their fears, preferably with a hook
To take her down. But no one comes.
One day, travelling at speed from Greylake to Greinton
Someone in a hurry to leave, and short of time to see
To issues like recycling,
Chose to relieve one obligation and tossed
A sack of -
​

This still isn't working for me, so I'm going to re-write as a very short story.
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