A Geordie Bogie Poem by Deborah White

I had a smashing box bogie the best go-kart
on our estate and my dad made it specially
for me. Two big shiny pram wheels at the back
two smaller ones at the front. With a painted
orange box seat and a long plank, bogie body.
A thick rope to steer, and a strong nailed on
sturdy stick break. I felt like the bees knees.
I thought it was perfect and so very wonderful.
It was a homemade dad special and darn great.


My finest present ever much better than
my best friend Christine’s expensive new
birthday bike. Until I raced it down a big
steep hill and crashed it head on into Mrs
Toffee Nose the neighbour’s huge gate.
My Geordie bogies wheels bent, loosened
then just fell right off. All I had left was a
splintered plank, an old painted orange box
and a broken stick break. Much as I wailed
my dad said my bogie couldn’t be fixed.


So I thought maybe I will ask my dad after
all. Can I please put a new bike on my next
Christmas list? My box bogie was my best
ever present yet. But I think I would perhaps
like to ride safely on only two wheels same
as my very best friends. And no-body does
swaps anymore, or turns each, bogz me next,
giz a go, have a sweet my treat, or even lends.