RM, thanks for the post. Except for Cunningham, they were unfamiliar to me, but there is distinct music in those syllabics.
Here's one by Sylvia Platch that seems to announce itself as syllabic, in nine lines and nine syllables per line. It doesn't do much for me. How about others?
I'm a riddle in nine syllables,
An elephant, a ponderous house,
A melon strolling on two tendrils.
O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers!
This loaf's big with its yeasty rising.
Money's new-minted in this fat purse.
I'm a means, a stage, a cow in calf.
I've eaten a bag of green apples,
Boarded the train there's no getting off.
[This message has been edited by RCL (edited January 26, 2001).]