Category Archives: Poetry

Hobbyhorse – Friday’s Word of the Day


When I think of a hobbyhorse I imagine a stick with a horse’s head or a rocking horse, ridden by children, which is, in fact the second definition for today’s word of the day on dictionary.com. The first definition, a pet idea or project is not something I ever associated with the word hobbyhorse. 

A look at the word’s origin tells a different story. According to etymology online the word hobby actually means a “small, active horse,” from hobi short for hobyn (mid-14c.; late 13c. in Anglo-Latin), and was probably originally a proper name for a horse that is now extinct. Hobby as a shortening of hobbyhorse also was used in the “morris horse” sense (1760), or as Dictionary.com states “in the 16th century hobbyhorse meant several things, e.g., a figure of a horse made of wicker worn in morris dances, pantomimes, and burlesques; a child’s toy consisting of horse’s head on the end of a stick or a rocking horse; a horse on a merry-go-round or a carousel in the 1680’s. By the 17th century hobbyhorse developed the meaning “pet project, favorite pastime.” Hobbyhorse entered English in the 16th century.”

Is it just me or does the term hobbyhorse sound a bit redundant? Basically one is saying horse (hobby) horse. But I digress.

Painting of a hobby horse with Morris dancers beside the River Thames at Richmond, London, c.1620


Hobbyhorses were associated with May Day celebrations, Mummers plays and the aforementioned Morris dance in England in the 17th and 18th centuries. Wikipedia explains that there were several types of hobbyhorses:

*Tourney horses- meant to look like a person riding a small horse that is wearing a long cloth coat or caparison (as seen in medieval illustrations of jousting knights at a tourney or tournament)

* Sieve horses – a simpler version of the tourney horse. Known only in Lincolnshire, made from a farm sieve frame, with head and tail attached, suspended from the performer’s shoulders. The performer wears a horse blanket (the kind that includes a headpiece with holes for the eyes and ears) that covers them and the sieve.

* Mast horses – are meant to represent the horse (or other animal) itself. They had a head made of wood, or sometimes an actual horse’s skull was used; it usually has hinged jaws that can be made to snap. The head is attached to a stick about 1 m (3 ft) long. The person acting the creature is covered by a cloth attached to the back of its head; he (or, rarely, she) bends over forwards or crouches, holding the head in front of their own and resting the other end of the stick on the ground. A tail may be attached to the back of the cloth.

And this is only a sampling of the types of hobbyhorses used in Great Britain. In fact many countries and cultures have used a form of hobbyhorse in ceremonial dance, festivals, customs and theatre for centuries. You can read all about them at Wikipedia HERE.

So how did the word hobbyhorse become associated with an obsession? According to Wikipedia the term “hobby horse” came from the expression “to ride one’s hobby-horse”, meaning “to follow a favourite pastime”, and in turn, the modern sense of the term hobby. Makes perfect sense to me! 😉

Of course there is also the literary reference to the word penned by none other than the Bard himself, “Cal’st thou my love Hobbi-horse?” (Translation: A loose woman or strumpet) – William Shakespeare, Loves Labour’s Lost, in 1588. And there is the ‘velocipede’ (sounds like a very fast many-legged slug…the stuff of nightmares!)…also called a ‘pedestrian hobbyhorse’ or ‘dandy horse’. it was a two wheeled ‘bicycle’ that the rider propelled by pushing the ground with each foot alternately. This modern marvel, a forerunner to the modern pedaled version was all the rage in the early 19th century. It was featured in The Gentleman’s Magazine, February 1819.


So there you have it; a glimpse into today’s word of the day. And here’s a little Haiku to bring it all home…

this blogs a hobby
could say, it’s my hobbyhorse
my tack is a pen

~kat


Sexagenarian Sagacity



Sexagenarian Sagacity

Six. It seems like such a small number. That’s how many decades I have lived on this planet; three score; sixty years and counting. 

When I survey the old lady in the mirror I see a face that is suddenly wrinkly and fuzzy like a peach. My hair is thinning. My belly is softening. My steps are more measured. My eyesight is fading. But there is a glimmer still, and a sense of contentment.

My quest for the secret of life doesn’t hold the urgency it once did. I don’t need to know all the answers. Six decades, three score, goes by in a blink; a mere dot on page of history. But I have found happiness along the way. A moment’s happiness is more than enough.

pencil scratch hash marks
inch up an old wall, love notes,
lost baby teeth, pearls,
patent leather go-go boots,
random memories to keep

life in full measure
bursts of smoldering passion
settling to dust

~kat
A Haibun/Tanka/Haiku for Colleen Chesebro’s Poetry Tuesday Challenge. Prompt words this week are: Hunt and Find (there are a few thesaurus aliases in this piece :))


Magnetic Poetry Monday

almost an angel, always
after a breeze, childlike,
dazzling breath of magic…
your life is poetry in rhythm
with eternity…do not listen to
the voices of fools who
say you cannot fly

~kat

Magnetic Poetry Poet Kit


Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 30 July 2017


I love this week’s Shi Sai ReVerse poem! It tells such a story.

Once upon a time there was such a thing as decorum, civility and grace. People had manners and treated others with respect; but no more. Now anything goes. We are insulated from the consequences of our meanness because we can release the dark side of our souls in posts and tweets and voice messages. What was once whispered in private is now broadcast around the world never to be erased, taken back or atoned for.

I am the first to say that I miss the days when we were nicer to each other. But there is a part of me that is grateful for our recent fall from grace.

Just because we didn’t speak our minds back in the day, doesn’t mean that those ugly things didn’t exist. We just hid them better. The recent divide that has torn my country down the middle has been rumbling under the surface for a long time. Back in the day before we lost our filters, people seemed friendlier, more respectful and tolerant. But those things were just skin deep.

While it’s shocking to see our true selves erupt, it also brings things out into the open, where we can deal with the fear, lack of empathy and downright hatefulness. It is true I have lost friends and family members in the past year. But I am coming to terms with the reality that these people who were nice to my face were not really my friends after all.

So yes, I am grateful. My life is enriched all the more by relationships built on trust. And when I miss those who are no longer part of my circle, I remind myself that I only miss the illusion of what we had. How can you miss something that never was?

Have a great week. Be true to you and yours in this brave new world we live in where authenticity is a priceless treasure. Peace!

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 30 July 2017

if only we’d lingered,
forever bound
basking in warm memories
to create lives worth living
because actions speak louder
heaven bending near
getting nowhere very fast
with a spot of rouge
I laughed it off at the time as crazy
heartless fools can’t see
pie is all about the crust, honey
suspended, graceful,
in the here and now
dance with me my love
poison devouring us
the world grows restless

~kat

A shi sai or ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the shi sai features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


Magnetic Poetry Saturday

As always, the magnets had a lot to say this sleepy Saturday morning. 

peace is not somewhere

out there, a thing to

make or long for

it murmurs deep

in your soul when

the world grows restless

dark secrets are a

poison devouring us

slowly from the 

inside out

dance with me my love

and if  you can’t hear the

music, listen to the beat

of my heart for it is

playing our song

some live as though

death is lying in the

shadows to rip us

from the day…never

dreaming, crushed by

bitter fear…no life

in the here and now
~kat

A collection of poems using the Nature, Poet, Love, and Original kits found at Magnetic Poetry Online.