Poetry Is Not Dead: On Mr Poetivist’s Sophomore Album, Kumbaya

Give it a listen. By the time the album ends, you’re not just a listener anymore; you’ve been carried through grief, reflection, and ultimately, a kind of healing.

Suppose you have ever wondered/worried about the future of Ghanaian poetry, whether we have torchbearers ready to carry forward the rich literary legacies of our nation, ensuring that the voices of tomorrow are as bold and resonant as those of yesterday.

I can assure you that you can set your worries aside, for poets like Mr Poetivist are holding the baton once carried by literary giants such as Kofi Awoonor, Kofi Anyidoho, Ama Ata Aidoo, and Atukwei Okai, steadfastly preserving and advancing their remarkable legacy.

Mr Poetivist released his sophomore poetry album, Kumbaya—the elegy of distant relatives, which has been years in the making, and I had the privilege of getting pre-release access to the album and poems.

After listening and reading them multiple times, I can boldly make the assertion above and further say: Poetry is not dead in Ghana. Poetry is still here with us. Poetry lives and breathes and breeds in the likes of Mr Poetivist.

About album

This bold new album from the visionary young Ghanaian goes head-to-head with life and death. Inspired by the profound loss of Mr Poetivist’s brother figure to suicide, Kumbaya steps forward as both art and advocacy, reflecting the vulnerability of time and navigating the many forms of loss. Conceived in Ghana and developed during a creative residency at The Rose Hill (UK), Kumbaya is a theatrical poetry album tracing personal legacy through the lens of grief and remembrance.

The poems

Where do I start from? The fact that the poems in this album are bold in the way they exist, use form, and take up space? Or that there are very deep lines that get you to ponder, find yourself drifting deeper and deeper into thoughts, searching within yourself for the feeling they leave you with. Or that you drown in the words.

You feel it. And you know that you are not alone. Like someone is hugging you tightly, but with words.

The thing is, you know it and sense it when an artist puts their heart and soul into a work. You feel the emotions not only exist; they take shape, they carry a body of their own, and grow wings. They creep out of the work, filling you, shifting something in you. This album is exactly that.

Furthermore, the issues discussed in these poems are very personal to the poet. That makes the difference.

The album is inspired by the profound loss of Mr Poetivist’s brother figure to suicide. At its core, it opens up a conversation about mental health, particularly among men—a topic that is rarely addressed in our society. This silence, this neglect, can have tragic consequences, sometimes leading to suicide.

A poem like ‘dear brother’ hits the nail on its head and speaks directly to the poet’s brother who ‘crushed under [his] pain, with a kind of goodbye making [his] life remembered like [he] never lived…’

It’s a haunting piece that lingers long after the last word has been heard, resounding in your mind and stirring reflections on grief, loss, love, and the silences we often keep.

brother, my dear brother,

i heard there was another burial lurking
in your livin’-bedroom
& no one was around to save you by your name

Similar to that poem is ‘Interlude to grief,’ which captures the grief of families who have lost loved ones to suicide. This poem sits heavy, but not hopeless; it mirrors the weight of what is often left unsaid.

an interlude to grief to a distant relative
i’m a fool to believe this rose ashes to heaven
but i will send it to thy grave anyway
for somehow i do not want this pain to die with me,
like how you lowered life into your throat;back in the sun, and faded into eternity
i know you’ll never get to hear this
but i will write it anyway
the day you died a part of us decided to part with us
we cultivate elegies as lemonades to see life through
and from your solitude we’ve known,
death always hurts more than the first time
and sometimes leaving is an option
perhaps you’ve become our familiar cemetery

As someone obsessed with the literariness of works, it gladdens my heart to read the literary accomplishments in many of the pieces.

In some of these poems, you could put them down, dissect them (my usual connotation of literary analysis), and discuss them for deep meaning, noting which literary devices are at play and how they further enrich the words.

The poet is a pro. You will notice such deep play on words as you listen further.

The art of sound

The soundtrack carries this narrative through stark a capellas to luscious orchestral synths and cinematic folk, punctuated by field recordings and sound-design that invoke visions of this collection as a movie.

I would be doing this album a great injustice if I focused solely on the poems. Let’s discuss the soundscape, sound design, singing, and music intricately woven throughout.

British producer Abraham Moughrabi works pure magic on these tracks. Listening to this album is an immersive experience, made even more powerful by the masterful layering of sound—an added dimension that elevates the journey these poems take you on.

Take Interlude to Grief, for example. The words were already reverberating in me, and then I heard a shovel hitting the ground like a grave being dug. That sound alone took every ounce of strength in me not to break down into tears.

And then there’s a feature from Tash Breeze—completely unexpected the first time I heard it, yet the kind of surprise you welcome with open arms. She sings ‘Ruby, come by here’ with soul and warmth, the same feeling you have when she does the ‘riffs’ (if I should call it that) in Strangers Blue.

What I wouldn’t want to do is let this review dictate how you should feel/experience this album, so I wouldn’t go further. Give it a listen. By the time the album ends, you’re not just a listener anymore; you’ve been carried through grief, reflection, and ultimately, a kind of healing.

My only instruction is, when you listen, put your headset or earphones to the highest reasonable level, close your eyes, and swim—no, submerge—fully in the experience. Every word, every pause, every note of music feels intentional, pulling you deeper into the emotions he channels.

Any favourites?

The hard part. I love and truly enjoy every track on the album, but as a reviewer, I must choose favourites, and so here goes. In no particular order, some of my favourites are:

• The beginning of god ends here
• Remains of a coward
• Dɔ me a bra
• Interlude to grief
• Selma my alabama
• Strangers blue
• The epilogue

I will stop here before I list all the poems.

Mr Poetivist is a performer

I had the pleasure of watching him perform on this album (and some) at the album launch at The Rose Hill in Brighton.

All I can say is this: if you see that he has any show coming anywhere near you, make it a point to be there. Experiencing his words, his voice, and his presence live transforms the album into something even more profound.

LISTEN TO THE ALBUM HERE