The Call of the Clerihew and the Tricks of Memory

That's twice this week I've come across something I must have written and just did not recognise.  The first was a short story I stumbled across in my files called "Dissidents and Distilleries" with a surprise ending that completely took me by surprise.  And the second came through the post - The Call of the Clerihew:*

The book wasn't the surprise - it was my contributions.  There was a group on Facebook back in 2014 inviting folk to put clerihews** on various topics in the comments.  It was fun.  I did a few.  And then I forgot about it, until the idea of an anthology was mooted.  The editors asked permission to use some of mine - I gave it.  Turns out I'm in the Poetry section with these immortal snatches:

Emily Dickinson -
with her it's slim pickin's on
ways to punctuate -
she was always dashing - and wouldn't wait. 

and

Anon
What are you on?
Your output does put mine to shame -
I'm thinking I should change my name.

I know I will have enjoyed writing those, but, nope, don't remember either of them.  Memory plays tricks sometimes.  And sometimes, it just bails on us completely. 


* The Call of the Clerihew, ed. George Szirtes and Andy Jackson - available online and from a bookshop near you.
** "the limerick's shorter, smarter sibling" (from the preface)