It’s exciting to announce the release of the fourth issue of Foreign Literary Journal. In addition to work written from around the globe, this issue features visual media from some fantastic photographers and visual artists, including our cover contest winner, Leigh MacArthur, of Yangju, South Korea. Also featured are the following writers, poets and artists: […]
Today is the last day to send us your poetry, creative nonfiction, short stories and visual media. It’s also the last day to enter for our cover photo contest and your chance to win 50 big ones. See our Submission guidelines for more details, and send your work to firstname.lastname@example.org.
Featuring 24 authors and poets writing on far flung places around the globe. Check out Foreign Literary now available on Kindle.
by John C. Mannone
By Lucy Ferriss
by Mark Halpern
and your dreamy neon lights,
Nascar cab drivers indifferent to my safety belts,
you’ve always given me a bed,
at times it’s been a park bench,
but if you couldn’t get me home you always woke me up
Paris by Carol Alena Aronoff Paris was always more than Paris: the light of Monet’s garden illuminating Renoir’s picnic, the playgrounds of Matisse, Lautrec. Art drunk with croissants every morning on lace-covered tables with forsythia blooms in cerulean, the aroma of burnt sienna- cups brimming with water lilies, pure ambrosia soft like ripe brie. The […]
The tea ceremony is called Attaya. The first round is strong and bitter, the second sweeter with a hint of mint, and the third round is sweet and minty. It mirrors friendship, which grows over time to reflect how the longer we know each other the sweeter the relationship becomes. What happens most during Attaya, however, is talk. We consume conversation. We talk about the rain, if there is any, the wind, which is more common, and the oppressive sun. And the villagers return to their natural spaces, rest or sleep peacefully. I leave the fire wondering if I had enough materials to tunnel to Mauritania. I just can’t sleep.
Somehow we were always expecting something like this, a strange wind off the Atlantic, moaning and cursing and full of old hurts, tearing shingles from roofs and slamming birds against windows, threatening to fling us, too, into another country