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Saturday

Woodstock . . . or Busted?


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Woodstock . . . or Busted?

This week marks the 40th anniversary of the legendary Woodstock Music and Art Fair, held in upstate New York in 1969. A family question is revisited . . .

Posted for a variety of prompts:
Heads or Tails (“note”)

Returning to the Festival
A Rhyming Note on Times Remote

My sister still won’t spill the yarn
Of frolics on an upstate farm.
She claimed to drop in on a friend,
Whose parents may the myst'ry end.

Yet posters autographed tell tale,
Although she likely didn’t inhale.
The legend lives, nigh 40 years,
Despite authorities’ stark fears.

Aquarians and others swarmed,
Although the Over-30’s warned.
‘Mid mud and mayhem, they did sit,
The first original mosh pit.

As Fenders wailed, the hippies swayed,
In tie-dyed tees and jeans a-fade.
Through mystic clouds, crowds held their breaths –
Two infants birthed and two sad deaths.

They chanted worldwide love and peace,
Demanding amnesty, release.
Perhaps their message bears a truth,
As global change may rest with youth.

Though I this festival did miss,
And I the crowd might find not bliss,
I must admit, I’ll sing along
With those who peace may preach in song.


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