Woodstock -69 Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

August '69, a field of green,
A promise whispered, a hopeful scene.
Fifty thousand, they thought would come,
But hearts arrived, a beat like a drum.

Four hundred thousand, maybe more,
Gathered together, on that muddy shore.
Woodstock called, a spirit set free,
Peace, love and music, for all to see.

Richie's voice, a soulful plea,
Ravi's sitar, a gentle decree.
Joan sang softly, of days gone by,
Underneath a vast, open sky.

Santana's rhythm, a vibrant heat,
Creedence played loud, stomping their feet.
The Who's guitars, a crashing sound,
Airplane took flight, above the ground.

Joe Cocker's passion, a soulful cry,
Ten Years After, reaching for the sky.
Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young so true,
Singing harmonies, old and new.

Then Jimi came, a final grace,
His guitar weeping, in that sacred space.
The Star Spangled Banner, a twisted call,
A generation's anthem, for one and all.

Rain and mud, couldn't wash away,
The love and music, of that special day.
Woodstock's echo, still softly rings,
A memory whispered, of hopeful things.

T.M.Solvang