stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 14020
    [post_author] => 4
    [post_date] => 2015-03-09 12:41:52
    [post_date_gmt] => 2015-03-09 12:41:52
    [post_content] => Not everyone will respond to whistling; take the collared dove
I tried to talk to this morning while checking if my socks
were still wet on the clothesline. I said hello to which
the dove paid no notice, her speckled plumes shining
fish scales in the warm December sun. I quickly added,
how do you do, this time with a flair of a curtsey and when
that did not work, I said kemon achen (using the formal
second person subject pronoun in case some birds were
easily offended.) But the rude dove just blinked, disregarded
my speech, and shifted her attention to a bug on the juniper.
I considered waving but was embarrassed to admit that even
if I moved my limbs I did not fly. Finally, I garbled, cooed
in three different pitches, in vain barked, but the dove did not
open her beak, must be bird-brained, I said under my breath.
Then the button eye blinked and she flew away leaving me
behind with my pair of wet socks and two cold feet.
Every winter, I promise to learn something new: this time
I have decided to learn how to dovespeak, else fill my afternoons
continuing to build a tower of Babel out of the unused clothespins.
    [post_title] => laconic
    [post_excerpt] => 
    [post_status] => publish
    [comment_status] => closed
    [ping_status] => closed
    [post_password] => 
    [post_name] => laconic
    [to_ping] => 
    [pinged] => 
    [post_modified] => 2016-11-23 13:41:30
    [post_modified_gmt] => 2016-11-23 13:41:30
    [post_content_filtered] => 
    [post_parent] => 0
    [guid] => http://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/?post_type=poems&p=14020
    [menu_order] => 0
    [post_type] => poems
    [post_mime_type] => 
    [comment_count] => 0
    [filter] => raw
    [meta_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [wpcf-published-in] => 
            [wpcf-date-published] => 2015
            [wpcf-summary-description] => This poem was a winner in the RSPB Birds Challenge on Young Poets Network (YPN) in 2015.
            [wpcf-rights-information] => 
            [wpcf-poem-award] => Winner, RSPB Birds Challenge 2015
            [wpcf_pr_belongs] => 
        )

    [poet_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [ID] => 13755
            [forename] => Sohini
            [surname] => Basak
            [title] => Sohini Basak
            [slug] => sohini-basak
            [content] => Sohini Basak is a winner of the Young Poets Network 'RSPB birds' challenge.
        )

)
stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 13755
    [forename] => Sohini
    [surname] => Basak
    [title] => Sohini Basak
    [slug] => sohini-basak
    [content] => Sohini Basak is a winner of the Young Poets Network 'RSPB birds' challenge.
)

laconic

Sohini Basak

Not everyone will respond to whistling; take the collared dove
I tried to talk to this morning while checking if my socks
were still wet on the clothesline. I said hello to which
the dove paid no notice, her speckled plumes shining
fish scales in the warm December sun. I quickly added,
how do you do, this time with a flair of a curtsey and when
that did not work, I said kemon achen (using the formal
second person subject pronoun in case some birds were
easily offended.) But the rude dove just blinked, disregarded
my speech, and shifted her attention to a bug on the juniper.
I considered waving but was embarrassed to admit that even
if I moved my limbs I did not fly. Finally, I garbled, cooed
in three different pitches, in vain barked, but the dove did not
open her beak, must be bird-brained, I said under my breath.
Then the button eye blinked and she flew away leaving me
behind with my pair of wet socks and two cold feet.
Every winter, I promise to learn something new: this time
I have decided to learn how to dovespeak, else fill my afternoons
continuing to build a tower of Babel out of the unused clothespins.