top of page
All My Stories
All Posts
Woman Before an Aquarium
by Pam Wolfson Woman before an Aquarium (painted by Matisse) She misses her lover. The model rests her chin upon her hands and shuts her...
Pam Wolfson
Apr 29, 2025
Sleep, Sleep, and Sleep Some More
by Krzysztof Dąbrowski People entered the room, waking up Purr. The sleepy tomcat wasn't pleased. Dumb humans – he thought...
Krzysztof Dąbrowski
Apr 21, 2025
I, Apricot
by Tamarah Rockwood I reject the apricot calling. It’s the color of seashells that live near the equator that I will never see on the...
Tamarah Rockwood
Apr 16, 2025
He Played
by John Sheirer He gazes at a photo of himself sinking a jump shot thirty-eight years ago, age twenty-five, suspended above his own multiple shadows, perfectly aligned with the basket, gravity melted away. The shot can only have swished. The moment embeds so deeply in his memory that when he closes his eyes, he’s rising again, snapping his wrist, the basket big as Saturn’s rings. Time stops, the world disappears, and the ball feathers through the net. Of course, if he tried t
John Sheirer
Apr 10, 2025
On the Way to Their Third Date, They Saw a Sign That Read, “Seeking Gently Used Sock Donations”
by John Sheirer “Can you imagine?” he asked from across the restaurant table. “Second-hand socks?” she responded. “No!” “They’ve been...
John Sheirer
Apr 9, 2025
Stroke
by John Sheirer He awoke confused but not much worse than fifty-seven years of previous mornings. The town dump opened early, so he...
John Sheirer
Apr 8, 2025
Soulmates
by John Sheirer Our eyes first met as she crested a rise in the hiking trail fifty yards away, moving directly toward me. Even from that...
John Sheirer
Apr 7, 2025
Excellent, Excellent
by Mehreen Ahmed I n the Egyptian State of the Niles Baby Cleo was up at 3 AM demanding a feed when no one else was around to come to her...
Mehreen Ahmed
Mar 31, 2025
On the Hunt
by Krzysztof T. Dabrowski Translated from Polish by Julia Mraczny A group of grays left the flying saucer and went hunting. The human...
Krzysztof T. Dabrowski
Mar 26, 2025
Father's Shoes
by NmaHassan Muhammad He is a writer, a poet, a children’s author. A stage actor. An orator. A singer. A comedian. A union leader. A mentor. A son, a husband, a father of four—two sets of twins, of the same sex. A civil servant in Minna, Nigeria. Twenty-two, broad-shouldered, and already stretched across a dozen lives. He learns fast that nothing controls time. It moves at will—let loose upon us. His journey to manhood begins with shoes—his father’s, worn, heavy, inherited. H
NmaHassan Muhammad
Mar 7, 2025
At the Film Festival
by Kathryn Paulsen She thought his new movie was kind of a mess, and felt bad for him. After his early success, expectations were high...
Kathryn Paulsen
Feb 14, 2025
In Some Long-Forgotten Midnight
by Lillian Nećakov In some long-forgotten midnight, Vasko Popa sits, wilted, on a wooden chair, in his tiny room in Skadarlija. The world falls into hip lap, it is too much, he thinks, too much. When he was five the world was flat, now, this world, a howlingly heavy orb pressed against his thighs, no larger than an egg. He rotates it this way and there is the wild Atlantic, that way a hysterical wind tearing across the Pacific. He begins to peel back the layers of this new wo
Lillian Nećakov
Feb 7, 2025
In His Shoes
by Eric Lande I left the house in a hurry. I wanted to shop quickly and return to my computer. I told my partner José that if he needed...
Eric Lande
Jan 22, 2025
The melody (I)
by El Peregrino On the shores of a lonely lake at the edge of the world, the last sun rays are dying on the horizon, painting the...
El Peregrino
Jan 8, 2025
Bi-cycle of Life
by Renz Chester R. Gumaru Michael stared at the old bike, its blue paint chipped and rust creeping along the frame. His father had owned it—a secondhand he was not sure he wanted. The park buzzed with life: kids zooming on bikes, couples pedaling in sync. Michael stood frozen. He realized he was too old to admit he didn’t know how to ride. He gripped the handlebars tightly. His father’s words echoed in his mind: “Life is like riding a bike. You will fall, but you get up. Alwa
Renz Chester R. Gumaru
Dec 28, 2024
Soul Summoning of a Political Dissident
by C.J. Anderson-Wu We don’t know where you ended up. Are you in the river where “insurgents” were drowned, in the mass graves where...
C.J. Anderson-Wu
Dec 27, 2024
Oak
by David Simpson A man, in his best suit and polished shoes, shuffles with heavy steps through oak leaves. Head down, hands in his...
David Simpson
Dec 26, 2024
Articles
The Morning It Started
by Elizabeta Žargi That summer I was travelling through Europe on an Interrail ticket — a month of trains and no fixed schedule beyond a language course waiting in Ljubljana. I had already spent a week in Malmö, made a delayed stop in Hamburg after sleeping through it once, then gone down to Geneva to visit Milena. Eventually I returned to Vienna, where I was staying with Gregor and Sandy. They were also planning to attend the course in Slovenia. I was meant to leave on the 2
Elizabeta Žargi
Apr 5
Dreaming of Kalbarri
by Meredith Stephens “Wake up! If we don’t get going now it will be too hot!” urged my fiance Alex. I couldn’t understand why we had to leave for Kalbarri National Park at 5:30am in darkness. Was it really going to get that hot? We quickly arose and headed to the car for the long drive. By the time we arrived, the day was breaking and we were among the first tourists to arrive at the famed Nature’s Window. We made our way along the trail to the window where international tour
Meredith Stephens
Nov 2, 2025
Between Two Skies: An Egyptian Heart in Albany
by Walid Abdallah When I first arrived in Albany, New York, in the winter of 2014, I felt as if I had stepped into a painting. The air...
Walid Abdallah
Oct 13, 2025
Reviews
On Their Frontlines: The Lives of Japanese War Brides Vol. 1 Review
by Catalina Bonati 4/5 stars ★★★★☆ On Their Frontlines: The Lives of Japanese War Brides Vol. 1 (to be published August 2026) by Marina Lisa Komiya and translated to English by Diana Taylor is a Japanese post-war manga that focuses on the lives of Haru and Yori, two lovers who have been parted by the war and try their hardest to come to terms with their separation and continue with life in war-torn Japan as best they can. The manga starts with a preface by the author which is
Catalina Bonati
Jul 14
Stress in Plants: The Hidden Half Book Review
by Catalina Bonati Stress in Plants: The Hidden Half (2023) edited by Rishikesh Upadhyay is a non-fiction anthology of shortened scientific papers or essays that revolve around biotic and abiotic stresses of plants and their effects on the plant itself as well as agriculture and environment. This book is not for the casual non-fiction reader. Specialized knowledge is required to understand these essays and as a layman, one must google most things. It starts with an introducto
Catalina Bonati
Jul 8
Agnes, We're Not Murderers! Book Review
by Catalina Bonati 2/5 stars ★★☆☆☆ Agnes, We’re Not Murderers! by Jessica Alexander (to be published June 16, 2026) is a short, experimental novel about the spectre of Mary and her haunting of Agnes, a manor, a convent, and an inn. It takes place in an ambiguous Gothic European setting. The book is written in an experimental form that takes its inspiration from Mark Z. Danielewski’s House of Leaves. Some of the text is written in red rather than black, and there are footnotes
Catalina Bonati
May 14
Short Stories
The Surf Called and Then It Didn't
by Kenneth Kapp In Long Beach there were days in October when the ocean pretended that no one was looking, sending waves one after another to crash into the shore. Running smoothly, they unfurled their crests from one rock jetty to the next. The inshore wind blew foam on ahead from the wave’s white crowns whispering, “Run along the packed sand until you sweat, then jump in and ride the waves back until your lips are blue and hands clenched in fists from the cold.” One year yo
Kenneth Kapp
1 day ago
Healer
by Mehreen Ahmed How a mother pretends to love her own children depends on her manipulative nature. To pretend, when there is no love? How does one do that? Anxiety fills me up when my little girl is ill--I cry through the night. Anxiety tightens my chest every time she goes out and comes home late. I wait anxiously by the gate for her to come home from school. Until she is safe in her room. That my daughter’s accusations of my love for her is a pretence, reminds me of the su
Mehreen Ahmed
2 days ago
When the Mangoes Were the Sweetest
by Samya Jayachandran Elijah Varghese collected broken seashells. Not the shiny, whole ones tourists picked for souvenirs, but the fractured ones. The kind that looked like they’d survived something. He’d squat by the surf in Mararikulam, sand clinging to his calves, eyes scanning for the imperfect. His Ammuma would call from the porch, her voice carried by the sea breeze: “Elijah! Come eat before the crows do!” And he’d come running. Always. There would be a steel plate wait
Samya Jayachandran
5 days ago
Poetry
Egressor
by Frank William Finney The pub, half-full on a Tuesday night. A songster sang acoustic blues, but soon the strings slipped out of tune, and then the mike went on the blink. I lost the mood – left tip and drink and headed for the Bull Dog. No sign of life. The lights were out. Graffiti mocked its rolling gate. Signs that say the place went bust. I wonder where they moved the band? I wonder where I’ll head to now? Better make tracks and head downtown before the taverns close t
Frank William Finney
3 days ago
Two Poems by Kerry Trautman
by Kerry Trautman The Places We Crawl Into As a home inspector, I shimmy under floorboards on dirt that foundations have claimed, and its centipedes and seep. On vacation, I wander Manhattan street grids at the feet of steel-glass towers of stacked lives. Home in Ohio, I test electric outlets, garage doors, faucets, and windows—the stuff of family morning routines and of children learning to name their corner of life. Where do you crawl in Times Square to see what’
Kerry Trautman
Aug 6
Compass Rose
by Josh Tecklin E. S. Shrunken fugue, becoming Called good-looking watchful of the small world, when I'm ulcered and emaciated, clogged-eye with my cheeks pressurized, sunken stasis in the big chamber. and the Big rubble, rise dogs barking back into blocks: everywhere I walk. crowd my roughshod city again. Across balconies Bristle with the discharge on the wires, in ingrown ballistic chic; bum the electric rabble, throu
Josh Tecklin
Aug 5
Art & Photography
Submission Guidelines
-
We do not publish homophobic, transphobic, racist, or misogynist works of any kind.
-
If the piece you wish to submit has italics or an image attached, please email us your submission at ultramarineliteraryreview@gmail.com rather than using the submission form.
-
Art and photography must be uploaded to an email and must NOT be shared as a Google Drive document.
-
Prose must be less than 3,000 words.
-
Poetry must be less than 3 pages, single-spaced.
-
We respond to submissions within the span of two weeks.
Submissions
Contact
Terms and Agreements
By clicking on the SUBMIT button, you are agreeing to the following terms:
a) The submission is an original work that has not been previously published.
b) You have obtained permissions by the third party involved if the submitted work contains intellectual property not attributed to your authorship.
c) By submitting, you guarantee you hold the rights to the work, and you grant Ultramarine Literary Review the rights to publish the submitted work. After publication, rights revert to the author.
d) Simultaneous submissions are accepted, but the author must let us know if their work has been accepted elsewhere prior to publication.
e) Submitted articles, reviews, and short prose fiction less than 1,000 words will be translated from English-Spanish of Spanish-English by Wix Translation AI along with manual translation by the editor. The author has the right to approve or deny translation.
f) Poems will not be translated unless the author supplies their human-written translation.
bottom of page