HeyJaredMeyra Aurelle
An observer with a curious soul. Poetry for remedy. Whatever the waves of wonderment bring, my pen is ready to convert them into words for your soul to sing.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 8
- Latest publication
- Aug 27, 2026
- Audience
- Checking…
- Earliest in this view
- Jul 3, 2026
Latest issues
My Emotive Reservoir (opens the original)
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This story recounts a maiden's travelsDown the perilous woods of sentimental unravel Searching every nook and cranny under the starlight For a remedy to a wound from a timeless crimeWandering deep in the forest she found an empty cabin It had a treen bed covered with worn satinA desk with a stack of papers, candles and a quillShe lit a lantern, took a breath and let comfort seep in Every fiber of her being whole-heartedly believedThat a civility-rogue poet used to live hereSo she sat on her chai
Could've Would've Should've (opens the original)
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They say, happy endings only exist in fairytales.This one talks about a time when a wish prevailed... Somehow, one day we started talking again.It started off a bit awkward and emotionally intense,Until our nerves touched ground and our memories made sense. We bantered like the old us did, once upon a time,When the dreamy me and the life-tainted you intertwined,When two heartbeats, midst love and politics, synchronized.And just like that, a wilted garden was brought back to life...A haunted hous
In The Season of Tulips (opens the original)
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Once upon an indentation in the timeline,The stars acquiesced to finally alignDesert the tragic print they love to assignTo a romantic script deemed unsanctified. Indeed, in a field of daisies the protagonist came to find A peculiar tulip that had a halo of the warmest kind One that is gentle yet strong enough to occupy The heart of this divinely sculpted floral delightSo she pined over whether it was the one or not…Is it the same old title adorning a peculiar font…Should she pick the flower and
I Know Something You Don't (opens the original)
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A permanent Russian winter is how I'd describe his land.Empty shops, secret whispers, beer and cigarettes.It welcomes souls as memories but never as lovers to claim.It is covered in snow so much so my warmth quivered at the graze. I walked its streets and I met its people from different decades.They dressed in black and echoed warnings all day.They looked at me as if to sayI know something you don't, it's best to evade. <a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" href="https://substackcdn.com/i
The Archives (opens the original)
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Tales as old as timeFrom myths to lullabies Laced with ethics and covert linesSpeak of love and sacrifice Martyrdom and starry nightsThere is more to them than meets the eyeVenture through the woods and you'll findThe mystical cavern where the buried records lie. <div class="im
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