The Hibiscus Meditations - By Jayaram G K Menon
Written By: Jayaram G K Menon
Category: Poetry
Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026
Participating in the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, Jayaram G K Menon, under the pen name JayMen, brings forth "The Hibiscus Meditations." This captivating poetry piece explores the profound connection between the natural world and human contemplation. Through vivid imagery and reflective prose, Jayaram invites readers into a realm where the beauty of a hibiscus plant becomes a source of inspiration and introspection. This work stands as a testament to the power of observation and meditation, drawing parallels between the cycles of nature and the intricacies of human thought.
About the Work
"The Hibiscus Meditations" weaves an intricate tapestry of themes such as growth, transformation, and the symbiotic relationship between nature and introspection. Jayaram G K Menon's poetic style is both contemplative and vivid, capturing the essence of a morning ritual that unfolds in the presence of a hibiscus plant. The poem's tone is serene yet profound, encouraging readers to pause and reflect on the unnoticed details of life. Through this work, the hibiscus transforms into a symbol of meditation, prompting a deeper understanding of life's cyclical nature.
The Hibiscus Meditations
Original Submission by Jayaram G K Menon
THE HIBISCUS MEDITATIONS
by JayMen
The hibiscus in my garden
The sight of the hibiscus plant in the morning as I sip my Bru starts my day the best way
The plant that shutdown for the night starts the day shift and will work till the sun goes down
The factory hums as the assembly lines convey air and water and sunlight to whisk up E
In the magic form of ATP expelling the O but keeping the C.
This plant prompts my meditation naturally once I discern its outline
Trying to ravel knotty thoughts and threading the seemly ones
Most are left to hang loose and wait for another reverie
As the poem gets sewn in stitches until in time there’s not one on.
The sipping rations the daydreaming to about half an hour
The ritual is hoary, but surprises are a feature
As birds and insects do make cameos and offer me
New threads for me to change tack as well as nip and tuck.
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“Said greeting twice in Italy!”
“Excuse me! Not quite!”
Eloi and Morlock
I see my hibiscus tree everyday but never its roots
They toil out of sight and rightly so, being rather soiled.
An underground machine that bores the earth over time
For unique minerals and plain water to run the plant.
The plant feels like a hybrid of two dissimilar species.
Roots are energetic Morlocks striving in permanent night
Branches, leaves and flowers are airy Eloi steeped in light.
Not engaging in tug-of-war, only push-pull interdependence.
My thoughts and ideas and their occasional expressions
Do grow into Eloi when the chemistry works out right
But only if toil, roil and moil are applied as foils
Searching like the roots and aiming for a vein
I could be trapped under and never come into bloom
With no rare fruit or flower in my palm and frisson so warm
Both roots and bare branches gripped by the long winter night
Never emerging and ventilating in the auroral light.
My meditation is the union of Eloi and Morlock
The attainment of repose after furious shovelling
Meeting Loki or Olmec one time, then Locke or Milo the next time
The hibiscus is intermediary and intercessor.
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Bird of Thoth of Biblical land, head to tail, the other way!
Kaizen of Chores
Being alive entails routine preoccupation with daily chores
And weekly episodes, monthly specials and annual house-shaking
Not to feel overwhelmed with stuff that crawls and creeps up on you
It is best to set aside some time to spruce up your turf.
Take the must-have mop and duster, broom and brush
Each to be wielded by unified hand, mind and eye
They aid you in getting to know every inch of your patch.
Never take for granted the cozy surroundings you occupy.
With wash, dry and iron as well with patch, polish and sew
There is a reminder to grasp and caress the very fabric of you
Prisoners every day long to start their drill to keep boredom at bay
Their chores set the tempo in the rut of their day
Take a break from your house-arrest and step outside your door
To be greeted by Mr. Mower and Mrs. Shears, the rake and the hoe
Longing to cut trim, dig and prune lest the dreaded rust set in
They offer their services free of charge save for a good sweat.
What should be discovered in these pieces of work
That is only possible when they are done with relish
Is the appreciation of their in-built disposition
To affirm the ordinary and the necessary, regularly.
What your mind is noticing when dwelling on these errands
Is the kaizen of doing them right by doing them often
The plant can shed leaves care-free and guilt-free
The gardener must pick up the pieces and the debris.
Upkeep requires an organic kind of chore-ography
Like the kind apparent on a hibiscus branch
Where the leaves alternate along its length
In sequenced steps to ensure the red flourish at the end.
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Heard of hikers acquiring Astilbe, ignoring the odds, backing the rest!
Green blind spot
Almost every leaf on my hibiscus plant is a healthy green to my eye
I’m over the moon with that but being a chloro-phile I had expected them to be black.
Why not feast on all the colours of the sunlight so the plant gets a sugar high
Do leaves have a blind spot or a tin ear in their sweet tooth that explains the slack?
That plants themselves polish off the red and blue meats but not the greens-
Could be used as an excuse by kids when their parents insist on the same.
“Finish your greens!”, “They’re good for you”, “Broccoli, spinach and beans”
The words ring true - but the cooking must be flavourful - not bland and lame!
Leaves are organic antennae soaking up the Sun’s full-spectrum broadcast,
The young Earth’s genius invention to decode and implement the Message of the Stars-
“Tune in, Turn on, Store up” - the foundation of a food chain so vast
That the Planet terra-formed itself, first of the Sun’s Children to do so - not Mars!
There is an eon-tested theme in my hibiscus plant’s genes - arcane and wise
“Greeny energy need not be swallowed whole - send to others - it’s not a loss!”
The colour embedded in the white light is distilled and sent to my eyes
Teasing and tasking me to do my tiny part in getting the “feast on me” message across!
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US work visa associated with topless sporting event?
Yellow fever
Like houses along a lane the leaves have their own addresses
So that utilities laid out along channels from the stem
Can be billed accurately and identified and reached
Should a 999 alert be vital to send.
Now and then you can see a house stick out unlike the others
Something is going on but how and why are the questions
Has it been singled out – by whom and for what
When did it happen and where exactly did it start?
The leaf is yellow, there’s not a trace of green
Something has changed and the house proclaims it
All the bills have been paid but the utilities do not fully flow
Is destiny the cause and is there a solve?
Is it merely random just due to chance
Has it been cursed and is it deserved
Is it because it wanted green light and so gave up yellow
Is it by a choice that the leaf made?
Only a few leaves turn coat and the rest are unaffected
Like hair on the body turning from black to white
The blood flow is there but something is lacking
The pigment reflects the zero intake of light
Has an alien probe compromised the channels
And the alarm raised so that nutrients are diverted
Keep this leaf isolated and in quarantine
Lest the parasites freeload and set up shop.
It could also be that the leaf has become an old folks’ home
Just waiting as the mood takes a turn
The leaf’s prism seems to have deviated somewhat
It’s in a prisn now, penalised and marking time.
But the leaves that turn yellow are so few
And I cannot discern any obvious pattern
As to what makes those ones prey
While other remain so healthy and hale.
If you say that all such leaves can be examined
By microscope for specks, scabs and crimps
To prove that the cause is from outside
Then I’ll wait for nano-robots to do the work.
Where the seasons are four, all leaves change
Their green to reds, browns and yellows
But here in the tropics, they know that the sun
Will always come back and not leave them waiting.
The mystery of yellowing is not quite done
Consensus is that they are on life support and must go
The science is settled – I don’t think so-
Nothing ever has been solved fully in the world.
I would like to offer another take on yellow fever
I think the leaf doesn’t want to work the shift anymore
It wants to try something else away from the daily grind
Like going out on a limb and becoming an outlier.
It’s the same with white hairs on the body
Some choose to not be bots anymore
Not all black hair has that choice readily available
It’s just that only a comparative few have.
The plant and the body can afford a level of nonconformity
Some cells have a get out of jail card
The plant and the body allow experimentation
In times of relative abundance and safety.
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He possessively clutched biscuit, then discarded it
Borderland
The flowers blaze in the sun
They pull in the little flyers
The offer stands only for a few days
Better give it while you can.
Then it’s time to fade away and drop off
Unlike the yellow who can still hang around
The red must vacate the premises
Soon as the goodies run out.
Where exactly do they go
Neither the stem nor the roots know
They speak of somewhere in-between
Not open air or dark earth.
Is there such a place which is neither earth nor air
A borderland between the two realms
Air stocked with gases and packets of light
Earth with its mineral water.
What could the borderland be
Where do flowers depart for
Do they disappear forever
Or do their essences transform?
Stems do have some memories of their emergence into the air
Cast out of the earth and choking in the gases and the light
The shock of arrival onto foreign soil and adapting to its laws
Which they do with a flick of a switch to turn on and tune in.
In that early emergence would they not have had a glimpse
Of the borderland between the realms of earth and air
Where green grass spreads in all directions
Then forgotten as the stem is forced upward.
Could that not be the fabled borderland
The heaven of the fallen flowers
Where the invisible ones unravel them
And the essences are dispensed accordingly.
I see this borderland which the hibiscus might not
It is good to touch it and let it grow under your feet
Return to the grassroots for every endeavour
And in the end put yourself out to pasture.
The crux of the flower that reaches the borderland
Is recycled and recobbled and sent out as useful elements
That are lego-lised into new entities
That might not be flowers at all.
Is this the plant’s obligation to pay tribute
To allow the realms to amplify experience
Within the mandate of their creations
Setting in motion the C and N cycles.
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1. 53 83 16 29 16 ?
Elementary, my dear…!
ROOT and STEM
Set stock by family heritage
Oppose axis and pull the plug
Hail Ram and come home
Let Sarsaparilla flow!
Develop foundation and embed beam
Fasten spring to anchor shaft
Shoot and cheer on, restrain the radical
Arise and applaud, tuber and trunk!
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Fix Irish clubs without taking sides
With stigma and style
Let me tell you of the birds and the bees
Once they got hooked on our sweeties
We found a new way to multiply
That was never there before the Permian.
But of the first flowers we have a dim memory
Male and female parts we had ‘em both
But not like what we have now
Which are ovules and carpels.
Our numbers grew to attract little flyers
We would succour and they would suck
Their bodies rubbing stamen and pistil,
Petals and anthers with stigma and style!
Many trees kept the old ways and avoided flowery pose
Stuck their seeds into fruits marketed as free lunch
Those who survived stomachs and intestinal tracts
Got to be dumped far and wide on the ground.
Our way was a gamble with no fruit, only flower
From the purely practical and austere
We became exhibitionistic and flashier
Attracting clientele who became regulars.
The little flyers brought pollen not quite the same
The flowers that blossomed were different looking
Even their leaves and stems and roots welcomed the change
Mutt-ation produces high breeds now and then.
I’m just a garden variety plant
My gardener is quite enamoured with my kind
His kind has cultivars who are mutters
They seek to produce versions of the perfect rose.
In some distant future when there are very few gardeners
We will be taken care of by nanny-bots
There will be almost no need for little flyers
To carry love notes as matchmakers.
I like my gardener who understands me
His gaze is neutral and not easily swayed
He treats me as a fountainhead
I am the active prism of his meditations.
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Who in BRICS scrubs evenly?
About the Competition
The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, hosted by Hashtag Kalakar, is a celebration of literary creativity from around the world. This prestigious platform provides writers and poets an opportunity to share their voices and be part of a global conversation through the written word. With a focus on nurturing talent and fostering creative expression, the competition attracts a diverse range of styles and themes, showcasing the richness of contemporary writing.
We extend our heartfelt gratitude to Jayaram G K Menon for sharing "The Hibiscus Meditations" with us in the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. This piece offers a unique perspective on the interplay between nature and mindfulness. We look forward to seeing more of Jayaram's insightful work in the future and thank him for his contribution to the world of poetry.
About Hashtag Kalakar
Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.
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