Emmanuel Sigauke

Emmanuel Sigauke was born in Zimbabwe, where he started writing at the age of thirteen. After graduating from the University of Zimbabwe with a BA in English, he moved to California where he completed graduate studies. He teaches English at Cosumnes River College in Sacramento, where he is an editor of the Cosumnes River Journal. He has published poetry in journals and magazines in Zimbabwe, Ireland and the United States. His recent publications have appeared in Virtual Poet, Slow Trains Journal, Ibhuku, and African Writer.com.


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	"Those Mototi Days" by Emmanuel Sigauke I sat on the summit of Chisiya, on the hard overhanging granitecontemplating the day this rock would tire and abandon duty,thinking: But let that day be one I am perched here, an eagle,looking in the distanc
	"My Niece in Zimbabwe" by Emmanuel Sigauke I just hear you elopedgreen, unschooled,a shrub to scrubsweep and weepwhen they knowyou are grim on the screenof decency turning indecentwhen they seethe softness
	"Zimbabwe Song" by Emmanuel Sigauke I will teach myself the new song;I will not wait, I will not wail,for those who sung and strung the tune.I will sing it like I am the first;I will summon ears that listen,or those

	"Poets at Heroes Acre" by Emmanuel Sigauke Exhume poets and bury themat the Heroes Acre.Give them space, respect their shivering bonesRebury them there, those who spoke never to quitthe teeth of whose bonesstill gnash not b
	"Only the Landscape Knows" by Emmanuel Sigauke Let me whisper to the bush, guardian of my homelet me proclaim the message of arrivalin this time of warlet me not leave any stone unturnedlet me whisper to the bushlet me say:
	"The Killer-Bee Banquet" by Emmanuel Sigauke Hurray to the Gonera beesthat attacked but did not kill the boywho had wondered awayfound himself stuckin a mouthless cave, aware out therewas light waiting to be seen. Ah, g
	"Beyond Yesterday" by Emmanuel Sigauke You are ready to grow upafter years of chasing the windroaring on the wayto surpass crusty-throated dreams. You were in a vortexunlike a dog chasing the shadow of your tailci
	"Rest Camp" by Emmanuel Sigauke Rest camp! Brother and a few fellowswould go there to plunder metal sheets from the roof;brother made pots, drums, and other household utensilsand he then packaged them, and sat them on the back
	"The War & the Village" by Emmanuel Sigauke The old women of my village plundered by war -McMillan’s Wind raging and howling, a new era groaned to it's dawn.I saw the old men of Mazvihwa thrashed to near-deathby war-drunk youths and the comr
	Writing, Language, and Inspiration by Emmanuel Sigauke This is a topic I have been quiet about for a long time, but lately I have been thinking. When I was an active member of the Budding Writers Association of Zimbabwe (BWAZ), I often ran into people who criticized the idea of writers’ organiza
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