Category Archives: poetry

LoTRO; a poem, yes!

To celebrate the new LoTRO expansion, I think we’re all due a new poem, and to my excitement, we have a new poet. Rhiannon (Berath’s Brain Burps official poet-in-resident), has briefly stepped aside to allow a newcomer to experience the adulation and adoration of the readership, regularly accorded to those artistes published on Berath’s Brain Burps; Rhiannon herself, arbitrary, Tommy the Cat, Ripsaw.

So, here, let’s wave our feathers in the air for Jonsong, of the Kin, and now official Visiting Poet to Berath’s Brain Burps.

Jonsong has not written a poem about the new expansion.  Instead, he has produced a poem about the last big expansion, the Mines of Moria from a while back; generally thought to be one of the best expansions of any MMO. But that is of no matter to Berath’s Brain Burps. Berath’s Brain Burps prides itself on rarely being at the forefront of anything.

Now all you need do is make yourselves a brew and  enjoy:

“Oh Moria! Oh Moria!

Oh Moria! Oh Moria!

You make me such a worrier!

With windy stairs and stairs so tall

I see a ledge then oops, I fall!


Oh Moria! Oh Moria!

I am not a warrior!

Can you install a lift or two?

A Stennah to the  dwarven loo?


Oh Moria! Oh Moria!

All dwarves rise in euphoria

But then I think- catheter bound

Is this the Waterworks I’ve found?


Oh Moria! Oh Moria!

Is this phantasmagoria?

I jump down a well and then I see

I died and then forgot to pee


Oh Moria! Oh Moria!

You make me such a worrier!

A mistress harsh and vengeful still

As I stare at my repair bill…

A rest, a poem, a song

I think it’s time for another poem, courtesy of Rhiannon (Berath’s Brain Burp’s official poet-in-residence). Today she has chosen a subject close to her heart, the LoTRO minstrel. In fact even more than that, she has chosen to write about herself! And her singing, which I’ve never had the pleasure of.

Now, I’m aware that this Blog may have picked up the odd (probably very odd) Team Fortress 2 player recently and they may be a little lost. So for their benefit, let me explain, the LoTRO minstrel heals so is basically the Medic.  Minstrels heal by playing instruments and singing, whereas the Medic heals by pointing a huge raygun at his patient and shooting them with what is more-or-less a giant laser beam. This is a not quite the same, but not as really makes any difference. So when Rhiannon writes ‘minstrel’ in her poem, you can replace it by ‘medic’.

You could also sing it with a german accent.

(Originally entitled, Rhiannon…… by Fleetwood Mac)

Rhiannon sings like a cat in a fight
And wouldn’t you love to gag her?
Screams aloud like a pig in flight,
When will the fight be over?

All your life you’ve never heard a minstrel
Who couldn’t sing.
Would you stay if she promised you silence?
Is murder a sin?

She is like a bat in the dark
Shrieking through the darkness
She runs about like headless chick
And when the fight is hopeless

All your life you’ve never heard a minstrel
Who couldn’t sing.
Would you stay if she promised you silence?
Is murder a sin?
Is murder a sin?


She sings like a cat in a fight
But you wouldn’t want to be without her.
She may scream like a pig in flight,
But deep down, you love her.

All your life you’ve never heard a minstrel
Who couldn’t sing.
Would you stay if she promised you silence?
But will you ever win?  Will you ever win?


The Same




Berathiela; a new musical interlude and about time too!

Well, Rhiannon (Berath’s Brain Burps’ official poet-in-residence) has put pen to paper once more and produced another composition. And a corker it is too.  About my LOTRO elven hunter, Berathiela but please note, Berathiela does not pull aggro. Let me say again for those asleep at the back; BERATHIELA DOES NOT PULL AGGRO. Thank you. Instead, Rhiannon is taking licence of the most poetic kind and talking amusing generalisations.

As you will see, this composition has been written with a popular song in mind. So find some friends, grab a tamborine and all large it to:

(Originally titled Cecilia and performed by those loveable 60’s/70’s pop poppets, Simon and Garfunkel.)

Berathiela, you’re breaking my mez!
You’re grabbing my aggro completely!
Oh, Berathiela! I’m down on my knees.
I’m asking you please, not that bow.

Berathiela, you’re breaking my mez!
You’re grabbing my aggro completely!
Oh, Berathiela! I’m down on my knees.
I’m asking you please, not that bow.
Not that bow!

She’s a hunter is our dear Berathiela,
And a hunter is my doom.
I went up to tank that mob
When I turned it around
It had run for the crowd.

Berathiela, you’re breaking my mez!
You’re grabbing my aggro completely!
Oh, Berathiela! I’m down on my knees.
I’m asking you please, not that bow.
Not that bow

Oh, tarnation! She’s at it again!
I fall on the floor and I’m gasping!
Resuscitation!  I’m running again,
Hunters kill tanks by exertion.

The Battle for Barad Guldur (epic poem)

Well we finally made it to the LT again this Sunday. Two weeks previous we had our attempt thwarted by Durchest, in the end we had another go on the Sunday and then went to Helegrod, last week a massive Server fail prevented us logging on on the Friday so again we missed out. We still didn’t get him down but the fight feels more controlled and it will only be a matter of time.

But anyhow, in the meantime, Rhiannon, official poet-in-residence, has written another poem for us all to enjoy. If anyone wishes to take it away and set it to a rousing tune for your Raid group to sing in TeamSpeak (substituting names as appropriate), feel free.

*sits by the fire and taps a steady rhythm on her war drum*

Through the doors of the dark tower,
Everyone’s mood can be so dour.
A tank goes left and one goes right,
Run in!  Run out!
Fight, Fight, Fight!

Call your targets, front and back.
Left behind and the world goes black.
All these goblins!  More than a few!
Lightning! Lightning!
Pew! Pew! Pew!

Uruks to the front of us,
Wargs to the rear.
Quick, Beoras needs a beer.

Now Rhiannon’s shrieking,
So, you better be DPS traited.

Slowly, slowly up the stairs,
Torvik’s voice is starting to wear.
Time ticks on.  Has it been hours?
Fellowship manuever!
Power! Power!

The final staircase looms ahead.
Idris really should be in bed.
Two final suits!  Lag!  Ack! We’re doomed!
Mez that warg!
Boom!  Boom!  Boom!

Uruks to the front of us,
Wargs to the rear.
Quick, Beoras needs a beer.

Now Rhiannon’s shrieking,
So, you better be DPS traited.

Now it’s time to face Durchest.
Is that dwarf really wearing a dress?
Suit squares off on curse-ed three.
Fear pot! Fear pot!
All to me!

Soldiers coming one by one.
Lighting torches just for fun.
Remove corruptions immediately!
Burn him down!
NOW you can pee.

Uruks to the front of us,
Wargs to the rear.
Quick, Beoras needs a beer.

Now Rhiannon’s shrieking,
So, you better be DPS traited.

I bet you hope this song is done,
Well, like the tower it’s just begun.
The elves move in and set up camp.
Loot coin!  Loot coin!
Head up the ramp!

Even minstrels need a break.
And for the reader’s sanity’s sake.
I’m pausing here now don’t be stunned.
I’ll be back!
Run!  Run! Run!

*puts down her drum and disappears into the gloom*

The Ballad of the Dungeons of Dol Guldur

The wait is over. The excitement has proved too much, the clamour to hear Rhiannon ‘s poem has grown too loud! The world wishes, nay demands, to read it now.

So here it is. By Rhiannon, official-poet-in-residence.

Now settle yourselves down, relax with a cuppa, take off your wigs and light your pipes. Like the Dungeons, the ballad is long, unlike the Dungeons it is not interminable.

Enjoy. The Ballad of the Dungeons of Dol Guldur by Rhiannon (new official poet-in-residence for Berath’s Brain Burps). Here.

Arise all people of Middle Earth,
It’s time to prove your metal and worth!
What heroes now will heed the call?
Who will cause the tyrant’s fall?

In Dol Guldur, so dark and damp,
Three steadfast friends commenced to camp.
And why would these three, so  bold and brash
Submit to danger and possible lash?

The Warden with his powerful dread
Had prisoners to the darkness fed.
Some noble elves so fair of face,
Resisted the cruelty of the place.

Deep within the heart of stone,
Their very beds filled with bones,
They waited, hoping not in vain,
For some brave folk who were insane.

So, Otroki, Qanien, and of course, Rhi
Were so naturally the companions three.

Into the fortress the three did tread,
The trolls they studied, plans were said.
Then slowly with a snail’s great pace,
They set about to save those fair of face.

Around the corners Qanien peered
While Rhi and Otroki drank some beers.
Up and down the guarded halls,
He watched and listened for troll footfalls.

The elves they found and something more
Things that were twisted behind the doors.
Sentries, keepers, prisoners broken
Soon were dead without words spoken.

One troll, two troll, who said four?
Otroki said, “Beware the door!”
“Behind it could stand the missing troll.”
Rhiannon’s laughter began to roll.

Then with movements ne’er rehearsed,
The trolls sedated (nothing worse,)
The elves were led with hurrying step
To the courtyard, they fairly leapt.

Of course that was when they didn’t cower,
Rhiannon’s mood began to sour.
“The door’s just there?Why don’t they go?”
“Are they expecting some floor show?”

So, on and on, the trio went
Until the night was quite well spent.
And finally when they turned around,
Nine elves were there, standing ground.

Oh, Otroki, Qanien, and of course, Rhi,
Sometimes you probably should just flee.

Then came The Warden with robes elite
Does he realize he has no feet?
Otroki yelled and tapped his shield
As the specter shouted, “Yield!”

“Get it in the corner,” Rhiannon screamed.
The elves came running like some bad dream.
The battle engaged, the arrows flew
The minstrel sang and played tunes she knew.

Otroki banged and yelled and taunted,
His underwear he fairly flaunted
Anything to keep The Warden’s eye
And keep him from having Elven pie.

The eyes of red were passed around,
As one and all bravely held their ground.
“The elves, the elves,” Qanien ranted.
Whilst the minstrel fairly panted.

“Oh, hush,” said Rhi rather terse
The words she actually  used were worse
“It’s hard enough without YOUR guff!”
And things from there got rather rough.

For when The Warden gave voice to fear,
And our three companions had no choice to hear,
They ran like chickens not quite dead
Running about without their heads.

Be brave, Otroki, Qanien, and Rhi!
The end is near, do you not see?

It was then Rhiannon began to doubt,
That she really had the clout,
To keep these Elves from the death they sought
But stubborn she is, or so they thought.

Suddenly, a thunk and groan!
The robed tormentor gave a moan.
The elves they cheered and gave a shout
And made a break for the way out.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven
Were the elves NOT gone to heaven.
Rhiannon gasped, Otroki shouted,
Qanien, the hunter, actually pouted.

“The one I needed!  At the last minute dead!”
It was then Rhiannon bonked his head.
And then the heroes’ cheers abounded
And the treasure they passed arounded.

What was this noise?  What did they hear?
Was there something left to fear?
Was it the troll behind the door?
Ah, it was simply Legotho’s snore.

Hooray, Otroki, Qanien, and Rhi!
The Elves they owe a debt to thee!

Exciting Announcement for the readership

An exciting moment has come for Berath’s Brain Burps and the readership.

I have never hidden my, possibly somewhat controversial, opinion that one can never have too many poets. I mean this in general. Neither could there ever be a surfeit of poetry.

To this end I have included verses composed not just by myself but also by my highly talented kinmates, in this Blog.

Now some of you may have noticed or even read the last two poems posted by Rhiannon, one of our minstrels. She has now composed a third.

Impressed by her creative enthusiasm and unwillingness to stop, I have offered Rhiannon the position of Berath’s Brain Burp’s poet-in-residence. And to my pleasure she has accepted. Terms and conditions have been negotiated. I shall be paying Rhiannon in pies and hope tokens. In return Rhiannon shall compose poetry whenever she feels like it.

The latest poem, or ballad in this case; it’s long  as befits it’s subject matter – the Dungeons of Dol Guldur, will be published in due course. Possibly after a post I am composing on my dice collection. But in the meantime, let us all raise a glass to poetry and massively multiplayer online role-playing games; may they be entwined forever. Huzzah.

Blind One defeated: a triumph in verse

Yes…the Blind One was downed.

And to celebrate,  Rhiannon has risen to the occasion, once more, and penned a verse so we can all rejoice and share in the triump. Huzzah. It may be a few days late, but an opportunity to exult is an opportunity to exult.

Deeper down and darker still,
We followed blindly, Beoras’ will.
And then when darkness seemed to end
We came upon our sightless friend.

Valiantly we engaged the foe,
Whilst being told just where to go.
The darkness swirled, the darklings swarmed,
Minstrels trapped by tentacled arms.

Once, twice, thrice, we held our breath.
How many of us would meet our death?
In silence stunned, we beheld the gore,
The Blind One finally dreams no more.

Approach to the Blind One: a verse from a guest

The poetic brilliance of my kinmates has amazed me yet again. I have written earlier about our DN and Watcher raids. We have managed to down the Watcher a few times but our plucky new gang of DN raiders have yet to reach the Blind One and seriously take him on…largely because we really needed to be able to fit the raid over 3 evenings (two bosses downed per evening) so scheduling was an issue.

But last night, we managed to down the fourth boss so on Wednesday…the Blind One!

My kinmate, Rhiannon (one of our minstrels), felt inspired to put her feelings into verse.  I feel that she conveys the feeling of excitement, achievement and trepidation we often feel whilst raiding and about to face a true Enemy after a long, hard fought trek.

The way is open
The path is clear
The four are dead
So, have no fear.

The Blind One waits,
For those who come,
So don’t be late!
Let’s have some fun!!

Good luck tomorrow everyone (that bit’s not part of the poem)

More Barad Guldur and more poetry

We’ve changed our tactics for Boss 1 in Barad Guldur. The aggro swapping was working, but it did mean that, not only did the healing have to be spot on but we had to be lucky in that two large hits did not land one after another. It also meant that aggro grabbing had to succeed.

So we have now done something else. Not sure what it is yet as I wasn’t there but, from what I’ve heard, everyone felt the fight was more controlled.

All this came after a number of wipes, not only on the Boss but on the gauntlet too. It just seemed that there were far more wargs than in the ‘old days’ . And along with this, at the point where the raid engages with the two armour suits just before Boss 1, we found we were getting Uruks. And more wargs. We were not clear if it was just a matter of us mis-timing things but, as far as we were concerned, what used to cause little trouble was now causing wipes.

But the wipes  did serve one purpose. They served as inspiration and a new poet emerged ‘mewling and puking’ into the world! Yes, arb put pen to paper:

Flaming, nasty suit
We defeated your five friends
then you wiped us out

The Gauntlet went bad
Obviously blame the elves
Not enough hobbits

Although I sense a disturbing anti-elf bent in her words, I think she manages to sum up the disappointment and frustration that we have all experienced when a ‘raid goes wrong’ very concisely.

Haiku for Barad Guldur

I’ve felt for a while, the lack of poetry in this blog; in fact, to tell the truth, I’ve felt the lack of poetry in all blogs. Period. But anyway, I decided to rectify the matter in Berath’s Brain Burps at least (this blog you’re looking at now)  and write some more verse for everyone.

I cast around, looking for subject matter, then inspiration hit. Of course. The Barad Guldur Raid. Perfect.  I decided it would be most appropriate for me to use the format of a  Japanese haiku, for reasons no doubt obvious to you all so I won’t bore you with them here.

I felt it went well. I may decide to compose further haiku for BG, one for each Boss perhaps.

So, sit quietly, contemplate, pour yourselves a little sake and read on:

Mobs in the Gauntlet

Respawn like snowdrops awake

A year 30 mins