Nipperkin
Nipperkin, Nipperkin,
such a word running away
down dark echoing streets,
old and winding, tripping over the cobbles,
slippering, sliding away, faster
and even faster as the night disappears
into dawn and the kippers are frying
in the pan, sizzling and spitting.
Nipperkin, Nipperkin,
still running away into the mornings
of meanings, up the hill of distrust
towards the others, the other nippers
and you all run together, skipping and ribbling.
You’re kin, Nipperkin.
such a word running away
down dark echoing streets,
old and winding, tripping over the cobbles,
slippering, sliding away, faster
and even faster as the night disappears
into dawn and the kippers are frying
in the pan, sizzling and spitting.
Nipperkin, Nipperkin,
still running away into the mornings
of meanings, up the hill of distrust
towards the others, the other nippers
and you all run together, skipping and ribbling.
You’re kin, Nipperkin.
This poem is copyright (©) Penny Dopson 2025
About the Writer
Penny Dopson
Penny is a published poet in magazines, anthologies and on-line. Her first collection Dancing Against the Wind (Rockingham Press) appeared in 2018. She is a member of Ware Poets, reads regularly there from the floor and has been commended in the Ware Poets Competition. She has four children and seven grandchildren. She writes on a variety of topics hoping to catch something of the transience of life.
