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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Burning Bush by Leslie Bustard
Spring’s blooming forsythia,with its yellow branches reachingup and out,is a burning bushcommanding attention. But what if this bush had been cut backwith pruning shears—shaped into a nea...
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Confession by Kaitlyn Newberry
Flesh torn from muscle, muscle from bone. Scratched and scabbed, broken and bloody I approach you. Old scars cover skin and new ones form over old. Crippled I crawl to you; Brui...
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Autism and the Church by Miya Sae
When was the last time you heard a testimony from an autistic Christian? I still find myself wondering how there is still so much misinformation about autism and neurodiversity as a whole. ...
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John the Cousin by Patrick T. Reardon
He leavesthe well-plowed rectangles of patchwork soilfor the mountain gap and the waste. He puzzles the heat, emptiness, echoless expanse. Crouched in the shade of a boulder,he sings hi...
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Gratitude is the little birdWith speckles on her wing.No matter how the day has gone,She finds it best to sing. And Joy must be the song that spillsDown from that spindled tree.By some gr...
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How My Grandparents Taught Me to Find Beauty by Caroline Williams
Every summer, my siblings and I would take turns spending a week with my Grandpa and Nani (my toddler pronunciation of "Granny" ended up sticking). During those visits, we ate way too much s...
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