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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Her quiet ribboned halobows to worship in rich dirt. Roots sleep soundly in the dark,through winter frost she bursts. Sun-poured petals soak in sky,to heaven lift their face. For her ...
Read moreArk of Flesh and Bone by James Robert Kibby
Tossed about in a bowl gripped at each endBy two strong hands whose providence aspiresTo break our resolve (who seek) to commandThe sea as we have the land though its ireProves our wooden craft ...
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A Love Letter to The Artist by Lily McLaughlin
God bring back the artist; Bring back the light in her eyes. Help her bloom. Give her a heart that always seeks you, A spirit that longs for you. Give her hands to plant gardens,...
Read morepeering out myside windowI saweyes eruptingas they hazedinto mine.a child—African American,open mawwith ablue bicycle,helmet restingon his precious,parsnip pale head,no more thana meter from min...
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Love is red, they sayOr sometimes pinkOr very occasionally greenWith the freshness of springBut I say love is fall Love is orangeUpbeat and energeticWarm and invitingA first glanceAn inside...
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Blue is a woeful flower so small that it gets lost among his brothers in the field, with drops of white that beg the pollinators to visit. Blue is a burgeoning flower for his s...
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