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Poetry
Home›Poetry›Are You There?

Are You There?

By Olivia Fleming
January 19, 2026
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A child stares into camera, held by her mother whose anonymity is preserved through the drawing of a heart over her face.
Coffee House Writers / Olivia Fleming
This entry is part 2 of 5 in the series Eat My Scraps, Please

Eat My Scraps, Please
  • Dear Me
  • Are You There?
  • I Called Him Scraps.
  • LovING IT!
  • All Things Begin Some Where
0
(0)

>> H – h – hello??
> Is it working yet?
> Am I making it through to you?
>>Keep reading. You’ll get there in the end. 

Now —
poor Cinderstein wasn’t a great waitress,
having built herself from bits and pieces, she was very clumsy:
sorry!
I made a mess
               sorry!
                              I’m a shit waitress
but I thought it looked quite beautiful
when I dropped your breakfast on the floor

I spilled the ingredients
it was a mistake
I spilled the ingredients
but can you still make a cake? 

perfectly imperfect
it’s a mess and I love it
i’m not a robot
i’m the opposite
hey siri,  shut up 

**
—
well I need to get better at doing men well so when a better man comes I can do him well and then he’ll want to stay and make me better and well so then I can do better and what it is is I want to do well

…..Man I love the sound of seagulls

“You look like parsley”

Right ankle weird feeling meaning?
^hahaha tongue twista

I want to meet you when I’m not so frenetic
The real me, not the channel
Physical me
Not this beautiful empty space

I cut a slice from
‘The Great Crusty Tiger Bloomer’.
Sounds like a Drag Queen.
Am I blooming?
I am wearing a lot of orange and stripes
And they did use to call me Tigger. 

Big Magic

Can you weather the brain storm?

Dm G(7) Em Am

My parents were gnomes.
They loved me with small hands and careful voices.
They brushed my hair with twigs dipped in honey and told me I was special.

The problem was not love.
The problem was mud.

I wanted to roll in it.
Eat it.
Make art out of it and leave the rest of it under my bed.

A goblin needs mess the way a gnome needs order.
It’s not a moral dilemma,
It’s a biological one.

And sometimes, a goblin needs to be a goblin.

 

thoughts are tangible
they are already there
everything already exists
that idea needed to be released
creation = magic
thoughts need time, they evolve as we evolve

Man, I’m crickle-cracking like a burnt log

Tell Me (2018)
Tell me why you are big,
Tell me why I am small,
Tell me why I get shouted at
When drawing on the wall.
Tell me why I must listen
When you tell me boring things.
Tell me why only you can answer
When our telephone rings.
Tell me why I can’t eat with my fingers
Or why I must be polite
Tell me why I can’t answer back
And win at every fight.
Tell me why I am this,
Tell me why I am that.
Tell me why I must eat my crusts
And why our cat is fat.
Tell me why I must go to school
And why the sky is blue.
Tell me why I must smile and nod
When you tell me what to do.
You sigh exasperatedly
And tap at something high,
The magnet on the fridge that reads:
Because I’m your mother; that is why

I think she probably rarely let me be.
“Don’t do this, don’t do that
Sit properly don’t jump around don’t eat with your fingers
 – in other words –
suppress suppress suppress your body

>>The girl stops reading for a moment to scratch her nose. She sniffs and scrinkles up her mouth to reach a tickly spot somewhere on the inside of her sinuses. 

 

13/10/25
Morning: 8:55 – I felt very full of magic in my dreams last night.
Later: I am sitting with the pigeons having lunch. About to have a cigarette. I probably shouldn’t but ah well. 

I NEVER want to become boring

qi – you can take any path but there is a natural way for you
where you are most yourself and doing only what brings you joy
you can take other paths –
there is free will and choice –
but there is also following nature’s pace and the flow
if you can feel the flow then things just are
which is of course how they are meant to be

‘liquid architecture’

You are given certain notes to play the song of your life
You can play them in any order and with different dynamics,
But some combinations will sound better than others.
The melody of your ‘best’ song flows with the qi.
Surely, we all want to sing our best song.

But what if we don’t know how? 

Follow
Your Body Nose
It scents sense.

>The girl smirks. The English language, eh?


Editor: Shannon Hensley

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Eat My Scraps, Please

Dear Me I Called Him Scraps.
TagsExperimental PoetryspiritualJournalmetafiction
Previous Article

Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 7

Next Article

A New Land

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Olivia Fleming

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Latest Comments

  • Annette Kalandros
    on
    October 12, 2026
    Well done, Ivor.

    A Bird of the Sun

  • Rowan Moskowitz
    on
    October 12, 2026
    Thank you so much, and I appreciate it❤️

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  • Seth Corry
    on
    September 1, 2026
    thank you!

    Imagine This

  • LC Ahl (Lucy)
    on
    August 31, 2026
    Seth you have a magical way with words.

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    Ivor, your poems are always so uplifting as are your photos!

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