...by Poetic Tee "Here, take a sip"
"Fura da nono!" she'll loudly, hawkly announce
One of north's best delicacies, ten kobo to an ounce
Grounded balls of cooked, pounded millets, made to
Swim in a pool of raw, rich, refine white yoghouto.
"Fura da nono!" she'll loudly, hawkly announce
One of north's best delicacies, ten kobo to an ounce
Grounded balls of cooked, pounded millets, made to
Swim in a pool of raw, rich, refine white yoghouto.
Carried carefully, covered in a colourful calabash
Balancing the thrill precariously, a woman brash
Her regalia craftily sewn off a culture cherished
Where many have allowed theirs to be perished.
"Fura", farmed by men, made by women
Milk, milked by the skilled, skimmed often
Old original recipé, tested, trusted to quench
A midday hunger, served by a maiden wench.
Many add sweet to the mix, stirring to taste
Making buds water, as eyes savor the paste
But the old love it sugarfree, untinged, untainted
As each scoopful gets a stomach satisfactorily satiated.
They come from four corners of the world
Mankind adventurous, in search of its mold
Its aroma teases noses, then pleases them
It's king tongue that celebrates the palatable mayhem.
(c)2014 Tijjani M. M.
All Rights Reserved
Balancing the thrill precariously, a woman brash
Her regalia craftily sewn off a culture cherished
Where many have allowed theirs to be perished.
"Fura", farmed by men, made by women
Milk, milked by the skilled, skimmed often
Old original recipé, tested, trusted to quench
A midday hunger, served by a maiden wench.
Many add sweet to the mix, stirring to taste
Making buds water, as eyes savor the paste
But the old love it sugarfree, untinged, untainted
As each scoopful gets a stomach satisfactorily satiated.
They come from four corners of the world
Mankind adventurous, in search of its mold
Its aroma teases noses, then pleases them
It's king tongue that celebrates the palatable mayhem.
(c)2014 Tijjani M. M.
All Rights Reserved
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