Erasure 2012 image (all erasers no text)
This contest is now closed. What it is:
Erasure poetry begins with an existing piece of text. Letters, words and punctuation are removed—or erased. What is left behind is a new stand-alone poem, one that both complements and gives new meaning to the Erasure Text.
The Erasure Text for the 2017 Geist Erasure Poetry Contest is an excerpt from Wacousta by John Richardson, one of the oldest Canadian novels.
How it works:
1. Copy the passage from Wacousta, posted below, into your word processor. This is your Erasure Text.
2. Erase! The leftover words and letters will form your poem. Do this in any way you like and be creative. The remaining words should take on new shapes and meanings.
3. The ONLY RULE is do not change the order of words or letters. You can combine leftover words and letters however you see fit, just as long as they appear in the same order as in the original text.
4. Shape the text however you like. Or, leave it as is. Add punctuation and capitalization if the spirit moves you.
5. Add a title: it does not have to be from the Erasure Text.
6. Print your entry and send it to us. There is no word limit.
For a great example of an erasure poem, see "Readme Doc" by Gregory Betts, published in Geist 77.
And for more inspiration, read the First Prize winner of the 3rd Annual Erasure Poetry Contest, "Do You Recognize Me Without My Tomahawk?" by Karen Kachra. Visit our Erasure Poetry Contest tag for other past contest winners and great examples of erasure poetry. Questions? Check out the Erasure Poetry Contest FAQ.
PRIZES:
First Prize: $500
Second Prize: $250
Third Prize: $150
All winning entries will be published in Geist and on geist.com. More than one prize per category may be awarded.
DEADLINE: September 30, 2017
Entry Fee: $20
Includes a one-year subscription to Geist, Canada's favourite literary magazine. International entrants will receive a digital subscription.
All additional entries are $5.
How to enter: This contest is now closed.
Or, send your poem, with a cover letter (including name, mailing address, phone number, email, title of entry and how you learned about the contest) and the $20 entry fee to:
Geist Erasure Poetry Contest Suite 210, 111 West Hastings Street Vancouver, BC V6B 1H4
Entries received without the appropriate information and cover letter will not be accepted. Judging is blind—do not include your name on your entry.
Be sure to sign up for the Geist Newsletter to receive important updates and announcements regarding this and other contests.
Questions? Check out the Erasure Poetry Contest FAQ.
Good luck and happy erasing!
The Erasure Text: From Wacousta by John Richardson
[START]
Imagination and mystery generally work their way together; and as there was a shade of mystery attached to Sir Everard's very ignorance of the person of one whom he admired and esteemed from report alone, imagination was not slow to improve the opportunity, and to endow the object with characteristics, which perhaps a more intimate knowledge of the party might have led him to qualify. In this manner, in early youth, are the silken and willing fetters of the generous and the enthusiastic forged. We invest some object, whose praises, whispered secretly in the ear, have glided imperceptibly to the heart, with all the attributes supplied by our own vivid and readily according imaginations; and so accustomed do we become to linger on the picture, we adore the semblance with an ardour which the original often fails to excite. When, however, the high standard of our fancy's fair creation is attained, we worship as something sacred that which was to our hearts a source of pure and absorbing interest, hallowed by the very secrecy in which such interest was indulged. Even where it fails, so unwilling are we to lose sight of the illusion to which our thoughts have fondly clung, so loth to destroy the identity of the semblance with its original, that we throw a veil over that reason which is then so little in unison with our wishes, and forgive much in consideration of the very mystery which first gave a direction to our interest, and subsequently chained our preference. How is it to be lamented, that illusions so dear, and images so fanciful, should find their level with time; or that intercourse with the world, which should be the means rather of promoting than marring human happiness, should leave on the heart so little vestige of those impressions which characterize the fervency of youth; and which, dispassionately considered, constitute the only true felicity of riper life! It is then that man, in all the vigour and capacity of his intellectual nature, feels the sentiment of love upon him in all its ennobling force. It is then that his impetuous feelings, untinged by the romance which imposes its check upon the more youthful, like the wild flow of the mighty torrent, seeks a channel wherein they may empty themselves; and were he to follow the guidance of those feelings, of which in that riper life he seems ashamed as of a weakness unworthy his sex, in the warm and glowing bosom of Nature's divinity—WOMAN—would he pour forth the swollen tide of his affection; and acknowledge, in the fullness of his expanding heart, the vast bounty of Providence, who had bestowed on him so invaluable—so unspeakably invaluable, a blessing.—But no; in the pursuit of ambition, in the acquisition of wealth, in the thirst after power, and the craving after distinction, nay, nineteen times out of twenty, in the most frivolous occupations, the most unsatisfactory amusements, do the great mass of the maturer man sink those feelings; divested of which, we become mere plodders on the earth, mere creatures of materialism: nor is it until after age and infirmity have overtaken them, they look back with regret to that real and substantial, but unenjoyed happiness, which the occupied heart and the soul's communion alone can bestow. Then indeed, when too late, are they ready to acknowledge the futility of those pursuits, the inadequacy of those mere ephemeral pleasures, to which in the full meridian of their manhood they sacrificed, as a thing unworthy of their dignity, the mysterious charm of woman's influence and woman's beauty.
[STOP]
Excerpt from Wacousta by John Richardson, published in 1832.