Engineers find inspiration in verse about safety

Engineers don’t always connect with poetry. The profession values precision, logic, and measurable results—qualities that rarely align with the ambiguity of verse. A new initiative from the IEEE, the world’s largest professional organization devoted to engineering and applied sciences, aims to change that through a collection called Safe Distance.

The anthology brings together poems written by engineers or about engineering. It focuses on the human experiences behind technical work rather than equations or code. The pieces explore emotions, frustrations, and small victories that come with building things.

The project was proposed to IEEE Spectrum, the organization’s flagship publication. The outlet has long covered advancements in robotics, semiconductors, and telecommunications. Initial reactions were hesitant. Poetry doesn’t typically appear in technical journals, and some editors feared it might seem forced. After reviewing submissions, the team recognized the work carried real depth.

The collection addresses difficult aspects of the profession, including burnout, imposter syndrome, and fears of automation replacing human roles.

The anthology serves a purpose beyond creativity. It humanizes engineering at a time when the field is dominated by abstract, large-scale systems. When engineers focus on optimizing supply chains or training neural networks, it’s easy to overlook the people behind the work—people who experience doubt, celebration, and the need to step away from data.

Poetry offers an alternative to research papers or project reports. It doesn’t require proof or a clear return on investment. It can be messy, contradictory, or deeply personal. For engineers accustomed to precision, this freedom can feel liberating.

The title poem, Safe Distance, reflects on the shift to remote work during the pandemic. The author, a civil engineer, describes watching a construction site from her apartment window. She notes how workers maintained their routines despite surrounding chaos. The poem doesn’t propose solutions or present data. Instead, it offers an observation about resilience, framed by someone who understands the rhythm of a job site.

Safe Distance stands apart—it’s public, deliberate, and unapologetic about its niche appeal.

The collection has found an unexpected following. Some engineers share poems with colleagues to initiate difficult conversations about workplace culture. Others use them in classrooms to help students connect with the emotional side of technical work.

Not everyone supports the project. Critics argue poetry has no place in a field built on empirical evidence. A commenter on the IEEE Spectrum website called it “a distraction from real work,” while another dismissed it as “engineers pretending to be artists.” The anthology’s editors disagree. The goal isn’t to replace technical writing with verse but to offer another perspective on a profession often reduced to its outputs.

The poems vary in quality, as any anthology would. Some are technically precise, resembling the structure of a well-designed system. Others are raw and unpolished, more like a prototype than a finished product. That inconsistency may be the project’s most authentic element. Engineering involves false starts and dead ends—poetry should reflect that reality.

For now, Safe Distance remains a modest experiment. It hasn’t launched a broader movement, and it’s unlikely to become a staple of engineering education. Yet it serves as a reminder that even in a field focused on optimization, there’s space for things that defy measurement.