In his excellent novel, Birds Without Wings, Louis de Bernieres wrote of Ibrahim, a goatherd who, as a boy, could imitate the different bleats of goats. There were, among other things, the bleat of a goat looking for its kid, and most importantly, at least for my purposes, the bleat of the goat who has nothing to say.

I find myself in sympathy with this latter goat. So, I present to you, dear reader, the following piece of approximate poetry, which will sum things up perfectly.

There once was a blogger named Basil,

Who had nothing to write which would dazzle.

He tried laughter and tears,

But still had no ideas,

Every thought simply made his mind frazzle.