about Calla Press, the Literary Journal
WHO WE ARE
We publish articles on faith, poetry, prose, essays, flash fiction, short fiction, and book excerpts. Max is 5,000 WC per literary genre.
As of August 2026, we are open for online literary submissions only. We are currently not accepting entries for a print journal at this time. Please subscribe to know when we do open for a print journal!
Please fill out our Formester form here to apply and submit your work. Entries submitted by any other means will be overlooked. Thank you for understanding. Please wait two weeks before submitting new work. Simultaneous submissions welcome. Please expect to wait one to two months before hearing back about the status of your submission.
Welcome to Calla Press
Calla Press began in 2017, when our founder first started publishing others' work on her website. In 2019, that early collection of writing evolved into an online literary journal through Issuu every year thereafter, laying the foundation for what would become Calla Press.
The journal soon expanded into an annual print publication. You can find our published journals online.
Today, Calla Press is an established literary journal publishing work submitted online on a rolling basis. We remain committed to creating a thoughtful, lasting space for writers and their work.
Articles
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Playing Princess by Abigail Thompson
There she stood, twirling in her princess dressBelieving the fairy tales were trueHer little heart carried a cheerful songFor light was all she knew When darkness fell she stood captivatedB...
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David the King by Patrick T. Reardon
I sing the psalms of the Savior to come and of the God who made the world in seven days. I know my sin. I know the emptiness. I get glimpses through a break in the clouds...
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The first leaves are heraldsof sunshine and song,tiny green angelsunfurling their scrolls to say:The winter is over and past.Spring is here. Their message echoesin the cries of birdsreturni...
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Perhaps knowing God feels like thisLike the warmth of the sun in winter Perhaps lifting our eyes to the crossIs like turning our face toward the light on a wintry afternoon Yet why must w...
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We go outside to listento the Giver’s eternal song.It wills us to rememberwhat we forgot that dayin the garden(and every day since):that he is ever near.Above,behind,besideand beforein the bo...
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Thisway,throughpatches ofseagrass, Hislove stretches beyondPlymouth. Thatway,acrossshells, seaweed, Hismercy reaches worldsfurther than Provincetown. “Myfaithfulnessis wider than thebeach...
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