Mis Amigos (a poem)

Noah Hapke - Ecuador


February 12, 2016

Back in Training Seminar 2 (TS2), in one of our many sessions, we focused on Storytelling but through a lense that we are not necessarily comfortable with. I spent an hour looking through old Renaissance paintings, observing specific color schemes and author's intentions, and recognizing patterns in size and theme.

From there, we were given the task to create a blog, using this idea of different storytelling tactics. Although I am not an artist, painting a watercolor canvas was not something I felt like I could realistically post on the Global Citizen Year website (sorry guys). Instead, I thought of how terribly uncomfortable and unknowledgeable I am about poetry so, well, here I go. This poem goes out to my amazingly supportive Azuay cohort.
Mis Amigos

Chillarie
Killing pigs and feeding cows
amidst the campo life that we live
Enthusiasm and drive is what makes
Me want to continue and thrive.

Or
When the guitar goes off
and the music plays
It reminds me of my high school days
And with that I feel at home

Malice
Although quiet and shy
intellect your strong point
To listen to you talk
Makes me laugh, cry, and understand the point

Gabreenanas
Humble and sweet, curious and kind
to be your friend means so much
Whether sick or sad,
Always there to be my clutch

Celine Dion
Sarcastic, dry, with hints of love
your heart is bigger than you know
Through writing and poetry
Is where you truly glow

Loud & Smelly
As the name suggests
you fart and shout
But for the most part
I couldn't imagine this year you without

Dirty Deemz
My favorite name
and it's no surprise
That you are a true leader and friend
and to the group a true prize

CharCool
Suave and cool I heart you so much
your stories which triumph through hills
When with you in seminars and connects
I always look forward to hearing some thrills

Micolas Cage
From the start of August
To where you are now
You've come out of your shell
So please take a bow

Stephy (in obnoxious voice)
I can't thank you enough
for all that you do
But all I can say, when we leave in April,
I will be all cries and lots of 'boo-hoos'

So there is my poem. Like I said above, I'm not a poet (and I do in fact know it). Thanks for reading! 

Noah Hapke